


Something That's Been On My Mind

by Nellied



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Also some actual angst, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-11 12:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellied/pseuds/Nellied
Summary: A lifetime without a soulmate.A lifetime bonded to Jake Peralta.When a hostage situation goes horribly wrong, Amy and Jake are left with an assortment of bumps and bruises, one concussion, and - oh, yeah -  one half of an accidental soul bond.Problem is, they're not soulmates.





	1. Amy

Amy frowned as she took stock of herself in the mirror in the precinct bathroom.  
  
Neat hair, check. Smart jacket, check. Subtle but tasteful make-up, check. The trademark Santiago look was intact.  
  
Still, there was something bothering her, and as she spotted the carefully unobtrusive patch peeking out from the neckline of her shirt, she realized what it was. She suppressed a sigh of irritation, quickly adjusting the collar to cover it up.  
  
_Much better._  
  
She should have known better than to wear that particular shirt after it had shrunk in the wash a few weeks ago. But she hadn't had time to do laundry in a while, her caseload being what it was, and it was either that shirt or the one that Boyle also owned, and she wasn't risking that again.

The neckline thing was a fairly minor annoyance, and by the time she'd gotten back to her desk, it was mostly forgotten, although she did steal another glance down just to double check.  
  
It's not as if there was anything taboo about wearing a patch visibly. In fact, some people made it their thing, especially if they had a very visible mark. Amy's youngest brother, Luis, always matched his patch to his outfit, and had done since his mark came in at 16, blossoming into being on the cheekbone just under his right eye. Everyone had one, after all, so why should he hide it? He had a point, and Amy respected it. But somehow she never quite felt right wearing a more colorful patch, and tended to opt for the more neutral drugstore-issue ones.  
  
It wasn't as if she needed it most days, to be honest. Her mark, sitting just below her collarbone, wasn't visible under most of the tops she owned.  
  
The operative word being _most_.  
  
She shook her head slightly and grabbed a file. Those cases weren't going to solve themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go! The first chapter of my wildly self-indulgent soulmate AU. Just as a heads-up, the chapter lengths will vary wildly, because apparently I have no self-control. But it is all written out already, and hopefully I'll be able to post fairly regularly. Hope you enjoy ^-^


	2. Jake

Jake wasn't sure whether he was more jealous or afraid of his partner's steely-eyed focus, especially when he managed to throw three erasers into her empty coffee cup without her noticing.  
  
He was just lining up his fourth when Boyle startled them all by crashing into the bullpen, sporting a worryingly huge pair of sunglasses and a truly hideous sweatshirt. He groaned, stumbled and collapsed into his chair, muttering something unintelligible.  
  
Hungover, then.  
  
"Nice of you to join us, Detective Boyle!" boomed Captain Holt, appearing out of nowhere.  
  
Boyle muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "just kill me now, it'd hurt less".  
  
Holt raised his eyebrow, almost imperceptibly.  
  
"Well, whatever you've done to yourself is probably punishment enough in this case. Peralta?"  
  
Jake looked up enquiringly.  
  
"See to it that Boyle isn't actually going to die, then I want you both on the Minotti case."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"And stop throwing erasers at Santiago. She is going to snap one day, and I will not be held responsible for whatever she does to you."  
  
Jake nodded, not at all chastised, as Amy turned and glared at him.  
  
As soon as Holt was gone, all eyes were on Boyle.  
  
"So?" Jake prompted, once it became clear that Boyle wasn't going to talk.  
  
"It's Vivian. We broke up."  
  
The precinct let out a collective sigh. It wasn't as if they'd not seen Boyle' s heart crushed before- in fact, given the number of times he'd gone Full Boyle, it was actually quite common. But this time had seemed promising, even Jake had to admit.  
  
Some of his disappointment must have shown on his face.  
  
"Yeah, we were basting the duck, if you know what I mean," Boyle wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive fashion that Jake immediately wished he hadn't seen," You know, toasting our pistachios, making a marinade-"  
  
"Yeah, you were having sex, we get it." As usual Rosa cut straight to the chase.  
  
"Well, we were pretty into it, and then she suggested we compare marks."  
  
Oh, _marks_. Boyle really _was_ serious. This was not going to end well, Jake could tell. Boyle may have been a bit full-on, but this was a step beyond, even for him.  
  
"And I thought sure, what the hell? I love this woman. And we didn't match. End of story." Boyle stared intently at his desk calendar.  
  
"And then you broke up?" Gina probed gently, clearly still hungry for details.  
  
"Yeah, I mean she said she'd be willing to give it a shot, but I just... I couldn't, knowing that there was somebody else out there for both of us. I just couldn't do it."  
  
Boyle trailed off into silence, and the whole team sat there for a second, unsure what to say.  
  
Jake knew Boyle had been right to end it. Some people were absolutely fine with dating somebody who wasn't their soulmate, and with anybody else he'd have suggested they give it a chance. But Boyle was a hopeless romantic, and obsessed with soulmarks. He knew all the old-timey superstitions about what different locations on the body meant, and the colors, and he watched cheesy romcoms about star-crossed lovers working for rival theatre companies, or whatever. Jake was sure Boyle already had a bond-book, stored away somewhere. Probably bought one as soon as his mark came in. A relationship without the possibility of all that would break his heart.  
  
The team muttered their condolences, and Terry went for a well-meaning pat on the shoulder.  
  
"When you meet them, it'll all be worth it."  
  
Terry had met his wife and known right away that they were destined to be together.  
  
Gina nodded in agreement, stealing a glance towards Rosa, whose eyes glinted, though she didn't crack a smile.   
  
"It's worth the wait, I promise," Gina agreed kindly, in an uncharacteristic show of genuine sympathy.  
  
Jake knew Gina was talking from experience, having witnessed most of her breakups first hand, and having seen her eyes light up in a completely new way the minute he introduced her to Rosa. Still, he wasn't sure it was the right tack to take. Boyle sagged even further into his chair.  
  
"Face it, it's never gonna happen. Every time I think I've found her, she's not into me, or she's not into guys in general, or she's into me, but she's more into my next door neighbor." Jake winced at the reminder of that particular misadventure. "And I bet when I find my soulmate it'll be just the same."  
  
"But they'll be your _soulmate_," Amy protested, full of wide-eyed reverence. "It's fate, they've _got_ to be into you."

_Ugh_.

Jake snorted and Amy glared at him.

"What, _Peralta_?" The way she made his name sound like an insult was really quite impressive.  
  
"I didn't say anything," he replied, shrugging. "I just think that your confidence in _fate_ is misplaced. America has a 45% divorce rate; some of them have to be soulmates! And soulmates argue, too! Just the other week we arrested a guy for straight-up _murdering_ his soulmate! Just cause you're soulmates, that does _not_ mean they've got to be into you!"  
  
But Amy wasn't looking at him any more. No, she was staring at something behind him. Cursing internally, Jake turned round to see Boyle staring at him in abject horror.  
  
_Crap_.  
  
"Look, Boyle, I'm sorry for being such a downer. But what I'm trying to say is that soulmates are bullshit anyway. There's no point getting worked up about it. They'll be into you, or they won't, and there's nothing you can do about that."  
  
Amy's glare had, if anything, intensified. Jake resolved to ignore it.  
  
"Look, the Minotti case should take your mind off it, it involves three different pizza parlors."  
  
And with that Boyle's attention was elsewhere and the station fell back into its familiar routine.  
  
Jake pretended not to hear Amy huffing at him from her desk.


	3. Amy

"What the hell was that back there?"  
  
Jake jumped at her voice, and Amy felt a sense of smug satisfaction at having startled him.  
  
"I know, I know, I should have told him there were only two pizza parlors, and left the third as an awesome pizza-y surprise, but in my defence, I didn't even think of that until we were in the car, plus I _didn't_ tell him one of them was also a front for drugs, which was fun!"  
  
Amy felt a headache coming on and fought the urge to rub her nose in annoyance.  
  
"It's not about that, and you know it."  
  
"All right, all right. I'm sorry. I should have brought you back some of the pepperoni."  
  
"Jake!"  
  
Amy was normally fairly happy to let Jake goof around in conversations like this, knowing from experience that he'd come round and talk to her eventually, but one glance out the break room window at Boyle, who seemed to be weeping silently into his coffee, reminded her why she was there.  
  
"Look, I know you're one of those people who doesn't care about the whole soulmate thing. "I'm Jake Peralta and I'm a lone wolf who doesn't need fate to tell me what to do" and all that-"  
  
"Ah ha! So you admit I'm a badass lone wolf?"  
  
"I did not say the word badass, and that's beside the point! The point is, I know you're not one for all that, but Boyle is! Boyle loves that stuff, and you're his idol and you basically just told him that everything he cares about in a relationship is a load of crap. So you are going to go out there and apologize, or so help me-"  
  
"What're you gonna do? Color-code my files incorrectly?"  
  
"No, if you don't apologize, I'm gonna tell Gina about that time you lost your actual handcuffs and had to get pink, fluffy, battery-powered replacements from an erotic shop."  
  
"Hah! She already knows!"  
  
"Does she know that you still have them? Or that they say "I'm a very naughty girl" when you press the button?"  
  
Jake gulped and Amy knew she'd won this round.  
  
"Okay, okay. But forcing me to apologize to Boyle doesn't make what I said any less true!"  
  
She knew she should leave it be. Whatever Jake Peralta thought about soulmates was none of her business, even if he was quite obviously wrong. She wouldn't pursue the issue any further.  
  
"What's got you so worked up about this soulmate thing, Jake?"  
  
Apparently her mouth hadn't gotten the memo.  
  
Jake stared at her, unreadable, and Amy wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Why did she ask that? Clearly Jake had some hang-ups, and soulmate stuff was always super personal anyway and-  
  
"I just don't buy into it, you know?"  
  
He said it casually, but there was a tension in his voice. She should stop. But before Amy knew it, she was arguing back.  
  
"But it's scientifically proven that-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, everyone meets their soulmate, sparks happen, marks match, they bond and share their every waking thought, et cetera, et cetera. No need to get your panties in a twist, Santiago. I just don't know if it's always the fairy tale romance you're making it out to be, that's all."  
  
Well that just wasn't true. Every pair of bonded soulmates Amy knew seemed blissfully in tune with each other. Terry talked about Sharon so much that she felt like she knew the woman. Gina and Rosa used their bond to gossip constantly when they thought (wrongly) that Amy couldn't see them. Even the otherwise stoic Captain Holt wasn't immune. She caught him one day, sitting in his office with the blinds down, wearing the signature distant but happy look of somebody in mental contact with their other half. It was weird but sweet.  
  
The point was, soulmates just had something special. They clicked, in a way that nobody else could quite replicate.  
  
She was about to say so, when Jake interrupted her line of thought.  
  
"Look, think of the worst person you ever arrested. A real scumbag. They had a soulmate, because everybody does. It's _fate_, remember."  
  
"Jake-" Amy wasn't sure what she wanted to say, but the venom in Jake's voice was scaring her a little.  
  
"And anyway," he ignored her interruption, "even if things start out great, relationships fall apart sometimes. Even with soulmates. Especially with soulmates, cause you can hear the moment they think about upping and leaving, or wonder what your best friend might be like in bed."  
  
And suddenly it all clicked into place, in a rush of detective's intuition that she'd be ridiculously proud of if it were literally any other situation.  
  
"This is about your dad, isn't it?" Jake didn't respond. "He walked out on you and cheated on your mom and that's what's got you so hung up on the whole soulmates thing. Jake, you're projecting-"  
  
Jake looked at her, obviously hurt, and she knew a second before he did it that he was going to lash out.  
  
"I'm the one projecting? You're clearly the one projecting your insecurity about finding your soulmate onto Boyle. You don't want me to apologize for his sake, you want me to apologize so you can go back to living in your own little fantasy world. Face it, Santiago, you're longing for Prince Charming to come and sweep you off your feet, and you don't want me taking the shine off it."  
  
And with that Jake turned and swept out of the break room, leaving Amy spluttering in his wake.  
  
She did _not_ live in a fantasy world.  
  
Maybe she liked to imagine the moment it happened, the realization that the charming man facing her was her universe-approved perfect match, with the mark to prove it. Maybe she liked to imagine what bonding with him would be like, touching each other's marks and experiencing the sudden rush of thoughts and feelings and finally _understanding_. Maybe she liked to imagine her newly unmarked collarbone, on full display for the first time ever, proclaiming to the world: "Amy Santiago has met her match."  
  
And yes, maybe it was a little cheesy, and she knew that she didn't need a soulmate to be happy, and she was aware that it would happen someday anyway, however much she thought about it or didn't. But who hadn't fantasized a little?  
  
And Jake was right, she _didn't_ want him to take the shine off that, so she tried her level best to ignore everything he'd said and get back to work without even _thinking_ the word "soulmate".  
  
It very nearly worked.


	4. Jake

Jake apologized to Boyle after that.  
  
He didn't take back what he said about soulmates- in his book they were still more bullshit that Gina's series of phoney psychic friends- but he had to admit that Amy was right. He had been projecting personal issues onto Boyle, and that was unfair. The man had had his heart broken today, and Jake had gone and kicked him while he was down.  
  
To say Boyle appreciated the apology would have been an understatement.  
  
Once he'd extracted himself from the ensuing 5-minute hug, and cancelled the matching Bro-ulmates t-shirts that Boyle spontaneously ordered to celebrate, Jake settled back at his desk and picked up the paperwork for the Minotti arrest, studiously avoiding Amy's infuriating "I told you so" look.   
  
Just as he was about to cave and glare back at her, Captain Holt came back through to the bullpen.  
  
"Okay, listen up," the Captain boomed, with the tone of somebody who... no, screw it, Jake still didn't have a read on Holt. The Captain continued, " We just got a call about a hostage situation over at Gravesend. I need two detectives with negotiation experience down there ASAP to assist the officers already on scene."  
  
"On it, Captain," said Jake, at the exact same time as Amy's "I'll go, sir!"   
  
So much for escaping her, then. Damn Santiago and her constant need to impress the Captain.  
  
Jake tried to find an excuse, mumbling something about a sudden stomach ache, but Holt cut him off.  
  
"Look, I don't know what's going on here, Peralta, but you and Santiago are the only two officers with negotiation experience we currently have. I asked the whole team as a courtesy, but I meant you, so whatever this is, get over it and get down there."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"On it, sir."  
  
And with that, they were off, heading downtown in Jake's car to negotiate the hell out of that situation.  
  
He could tell that Amy wanted to say something as they were driving, and made a move to forestall her.  
  
"Look, if this is about the new air freshener, I know it's a bit strong, but the last perp I brought in got travel sick and threw up in the glove compartment, and you would _not_ believe how long the smell hangs around when you put off cleaning it for 3 days."  
  
"No, I- you know what, forget it."  
  
They drove along in silence for a few seconds.  
  
"Also, eww!"   
  
Jake simply nodded.   
  
They spent the rest of the journey in silence, Jake desperately hoping Amy wouldn't bring up soulmate stuff again, Amy probably worrying about residual vomit and trying not to touch anything.  
  
When they arrived at the scene it was all go.  
  
"Suspect is in the building, 7 hostages reported, at least one injured," reported the commanding officer. Jake and Amy nodded, looking over the entrance of the building as he filled them in.  
  
Their job was simple. Go in, talk the perp into letting the hostages go, try and convince him to leave without a fight, take him down if necessary. Dramatic, but nothing they hadn't done before.  
  
At first it did seem to be going well. The hostage-taker agreed to let the two officers into the building, and even let two of his hostages go as a sign of good faith. Then Jake managed to persuade him to let the rest go, with him and Amy staying behind instead. As the last hostage disappeared out the front door, Jake caught Amy smiling slightly. This was going well, and they both knew it.  
  
It was that secret shared smile that blew it.  
  
"Hey, what you smilin' at? Hey? Hey?" The perp got up in Amy' face. "You up to some kind of cop tricks? Well? Are you?"  
  
"No, no cop tricks, just smiling at my partner," Amy said, in a tone that sounded calm on the surface, but betrayed her inner panic.  
  
The guy seemed to buy it, Jake thought, watching him step back, then rapidly reevaluated his assessment as the man pulled his gun on Amy.  
  
Immediately Jake's already-hyperactive mind went into overdrive, as he imagined a thousand different scenarios, calculating angles and speed and trajectories. Amy tensed up.  
  
He saw the shift in the man's eyes, as if in slow-mo, the moment he decided to shoot.  
  
Without really thinking, Jake dove.  
  
He felt the impact as he hit Amy, heard the gunshot faintly in the background and felt his stomach give a lurch as the two detectives toppled backwards, losing their balance.   
  
He was told later that the shot was all the excuse their backup needed to intervene.  
  
At the time, though, Jake wasn't aware of any of that. All he felt was the jolt as he landed, sprawled over Amy, and his hand made contact with her shoulder.   
  
_Neatly-stacked files. Pain. Library smell. Blood. Peralta's laughter. More pain. A crisply ironed shirt. A harsh ringing in his ears. Happy dancing. Nothing._


	5. Amy

Amy cracked her eyes open and immediately regretted it, as her stomach twisted and the world swam before her in a sterile white blur.  
  
What the hell had she done to deserve this?  
  
She racked her memory, but the last thing she remembered clearly was sitting in Jake's car en route to the hostage situation. Beyond that there was a fuzzy memory of falling and hitting the ground- maybe that was why she felt so terrible- and then nothing.  
  
"You got knocked out when you hit the ground. Had us all a little worried."  
  
Amy jumped. How had she not noticed Terry sitting right there? And had she been speaking out loud?  
  
"Yeah, but I don't blame you for being a little out of it."  
  
Huh. She made a conscious effort to stop doing that, then turned back to Terry.  
  
"What happened?"   
  
"Hostage-taker got jumpy and decided to take a shot at you, Jake got you out of the way, you got a concussion when you hit the floor. You've been out for a few hours. Had us all a little worried."  
  
Amy noticed a tension behind Terry's words, and an uncharacteristic sadness in his eyes. Suddenly she had a horrible feeling in her stomach.  
  
"Jake! Terry, is Jake okay?"  
  
The few seconds pause before Terry answered confirmed it. Something had happened to Jake. But before Amy could fully process that, Terry calmed her fears.  
  
"He's fine, physically. Barely even injured. Cuts and scrapes."  
  
He said this in a tone that implied a "but", and Amy waited for the other shoe to drop. She stared at Terry. He looked desperately like he didn't want to be having this conversation.  
  
"But?" Amy finally prompted.  
  
"Look, I don't know how much you remember after you fell, but Jake landed on you."  
  
Oh God, please say she hadn't injured Jake somehow. He'd never let her live that down. But Terry continued.  
  
"Anyway, apparently the force of it all knocked your soulmark patch off,"  
  
Okay, not what Amy had been expecting. Was Terry telling her that her mark had been exposed? That would explain the look he'd been giving her. Exposing your soulmark literally meant baring your soul to the world. It was supposed to be intimate, and private and now all the team knew-  
  
But Terry wasn't done.  
  
"And then because of the way he landed, Jake managed to brush your mark. And... you're bonded."  
  
For a second Amy couldn't even process what the words meant. She and Jake were... bonded? She stared at Terry. Surely this was a joke, right? An ill-judged, poorly-timed joke, and Jake would jump out from behind the door and laugh, and she'd shout at him and all would be right again.   
  
Only Terry would have had to be in on it, and she didn't think Terry, with his romantic streak a mile wide, would fake something like this.  
  
Which meant... _oh_, _God_.   
  
She fumbled with her hospital gown, pulling it aside to check her collarbone, hoping against hope that she'd see her mark there, in all its splotchy blue familiarity.   
  
Only it wasn't there. Her mark was gone, and with that realization came the horrible knowledge that she was, in fact, bonded.   
  
The sympathy in Terry's eyes killed her.  
  
An accidental bond. She'd heard horror stories, but had never seen it happen. She knew it was possible, of course, in theory. Every schoolkid knew that. Marks formed a bond with the first person to touch them. That was the whole reason protective patches existed, although the privacy thing also played into it. But she'd never thought it could happen to _her_. She'd always been so careful.  
  
Suddenly the full implications hit her.  
  
"Sarge, why am I not hearing Jake's thoughts then? If we're bonded and all?"  
  
Terry looked confused.  
  
"He only touched your mark, Amy. You wouldn't be hearing his thoughts unless you'd touched his. It's a one-way kinda deal."  
  
Oh, yeah. That made sense. Maybe she was more concussed than she realized.   
  
Terry looked like he was about to give her a hug, or possibly cry, and she knew that if he did either of those, she'd fall apart. She felt the panic setting in already.  
  
"Look, could you just... leave me be for a few minutes? I need some space."  
  
"Course," Terry nodded, and patted her arm reassuringly on his way out. "I'll be out there, if you need anything. The whole squad's out there."  
  
She nodded distractedly, then took a deep breath once the door closed.  
  
Bonded. With _Jake_.   
  
The more she thought it, the less believable it sounded. Things like this just didn't happen. Not to Amy Santiago.   
  
She couldn't be bonded.  
  
But the lack of a mark said otherwise.   
  
She pulled back her gown again to look at the space where her mark used to be.   
  
She barely remembered the last time it hadn't been there. Her mark had come in quite early, at 14, and she'd been one of the first of her friends to get theirs. She remembered being so excited to know that somewhere out there, somebody was looking in equal excitement at a new mark that matched hers perfectly, thinking about her and wondering how they would meet.  
  
She guessed that was over now. Even if she did find her soulmate, she could never prove that they were matched. Hell, they'd never be able to bond properly, even if they did meet and somehow, against all odds, fell in love.  
  
A lifetime without a soulmate.  
  
A lifetime bonded to Jake Peralta.  
  
Somehow it was the second statement that scared her more.


	6. Jake

_Fear. Bright lights. Pain. Terry?_  
  
"No, numb-nuts, it's me. Gina. You know, perfect nails, flawless hair, general aura of effortless superiority?"  
  
Jake struggled to focus on the voice beside him, but the room was distracting. It both was and wasn't there, and Jake was fairly sure that wasn't normal.  
  
He shut his eyes again, but somehow they were still open. He tried harder to shut them, screwing his face up tight in an effort to make the world less confusing.  
  
"Just focus in, come on, listen to me, Jake."  
  
Jake tried to do as the voice said, but it was difficult. He was somehow listening and not listening, or maybe listening but to a silence that somehow existed alongside the voice, and _God, was this what a mental breakdown felt like?_  
  
He wondered if he could go back to sleep, or whatever it was he was doing before this confusing mess became his life.  
  
"Hey, keep it together, don't quit on me now," the voice became more insistent, and Jake felt, or possibly didn't feel, a hand over his.  
  
"Yeah, that's right. Focus on my hand."  
  
Somebody was rubbing steady, rhythmic circles on the back of his hand now, and the more he focused in on that, the more he could shut everything else out.  
  
For a few minutes he just breathed and let the world snap back into focus. Gradually the room's existence solidified around him, and after a few more minutes he felt confident enough to open his eyes.  
  
This time the hospital room around him stayed stubbornly real.  
  
Gina smiled over at him.  
  
"See, you get used to it pretty quickly."  
  
Get used to what? Jake was about to ask when a new sensation his him with the force of a truck.  
  
_Short, gasping breaths. Sickness in his stomach. How do I tell mom and dad?_  
  
Whoa.  
  
Gina must have caught some of the discomfort in his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, that'll happen for a bit. Just focus on me for now."  
  
Jake tried his best to do so, and wondered what the hell was wrong with him. His confusion obviously showed on his face.  
  
"Jake, how much do you remember?"  
  
Jake racked his memory. He'd been in the car with Amy, heading to a hostage situation. It had gone well, until-  
  
"Amy! Is Amy alright?"  
  
Gina sighed, shooting Jake a look he couldn't quite decipher.  
  
"Yeah, you got her out of the way. Nothing more than a concussion."  
  
Jake nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but he'd known Gina for years, and knew when she was holding something back. She always bit her lip, and right now he was afraid she'd bite right through it.  
  
"Gina, what are you not telling me?"  
  
She took a breath, and Jake fought off another wave of the panicky sickness, focusing on her voice just like she told him to.  
  
"You accidentally knocked Amy's patch off when you jumped to protect her," Gina finally admitted, her voice weirdly gentle. "When backup found you, she was out cold and you were incoherent. When they were checking you both over, they noticed that her mark was missing, and you were showing the signs of a one-way bond."  
  
The words were world-shattering, but somehow Jake felt like they were confirming something he already knew.  
  
Bonded. With Amy.  
  
_Splashing water. This can't be real. Jake?_  
  
With a start Jake realised that the bursts of emotion and random thoughts he was picking up were Amy's. Now that he knew they were there, he could hear them in the back of his brain like a radio playing in the room next door.  
  
He wondered what would happen if he listened more closely.  
  
\- _and what if I forget what my mark even looked like? What if I don't recognise it even if I do meet my soulmate? Oh God, it's not gonna happen, its never gonna happen, maybe I never even had a soulmate to begin with, maybe it's just Jake for me, forever, focus Amy, breathe, ugh my head hurts, I bet Jake is feeling it, I hope Jake's okay, he's probably not that bothered, guess it's a good job he's not the romantic type, and great, now I'm crying, I hate this, hate this, hate this_ -  
  
Jake snapped back to himself with a twinge of embarrassment. He shouldn't be listening in on this. If he knew anything about Amy Santiago, it was that she hated showing weakness to anyone. He reckoned he'd seen _Rosa_ cry more than Amy. Granted, he'd only seen Rosa cry twice, and one time was during a particularly weird case at an onion farm, but the point still stood. Amy Santiago did not want him knowing about her freak-out.  
  
_ Her soulmate_, his mind supplied, _would know how to deal with this. But you're not her soulmate, are you?_   
  
He caught Gina looking at him, and realized he still hadn't said anything. He wondered what you could say to the revelation that you had formed an intimate and irreversible bond with your colleague and best friend, entirely against her will, and had most likely ruined both her life _and_ your friendship?  
  
The words sprang to his lips automatically.  
  
"Cool. Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool."  
  
Things were cool, right? They'd find a way to deal with this. Right?  
  
Gina didn't look like she was buying it, and Jake didn't blame her.  
  
Things were very much _not_ cool.


	7. Amy

Amy's hands shook as she pulled her shoes on. She glared at her fingers, willing them to stop, but it didn't seem to have much of an effect. Somehow she couldn't do the laces up right. She cursed under her breath, hoping Rosa wouldn't notice.  
  
Predictably, she did.  
  
"Hey, if you don't feel up to it, you don't have to check out just yet," Rosa said, with a voice that almost passed for soothing. Quite something, coming from Rosa. The sound made Amy feel sick again, although she couldn't say why.  
  
She shook her head irritably. She wasn't sure if she was more angry at Rosa or herself.  
  
"I'm good, just gotta get this-"  
  
With a sense of victory that really shouldn't have been that gratifying, Amy got the offending lace done up.  
  
"And there we go. Let's go! Time to check out!"  
  
"Okay, okay! And there's nothing else you need to do while you're here?"  
  
Rosa's unspoken question hovered in the air between them: _don't you want to go talk to Jake?_  
  
Or maybe it was that question's more pointed cousin: _why haven't you spoken to Jake already?_  
  
Amy sighed. Truth be told, she didn't have a great answer. She knew intellectually that the whole situation wasn't Jake's fault, and that he was probably feeling much worse than she did right now, especially if everything she'd read about one-sided bonds was true. Worse, she knew from eight years of friendship that her ignoring him- and she _was_ ignoring him, however she might try and rationalize it- was likely doing more harm than good. Jake was probably beating himself up right now, worrying about having ruined their partnership for good, and all because she wasn't a good enough friend to go and talk to him.  
  
But whenever she thought about what she'd actually say to him, her brain short-circuited and her heart started pounding, and all she could think about was that blank stretch of skin under her collarbone and how, whatever she said to make it all right, he'd know it was all a lie, and she just couldn't face that, so she settled for a brisk "No, that'll be everything" and tried to ignore Rosa's carefully-masked look of disappointment.  
  
The two of them headed towards the front desk in silence, and Amy felt the need to apologize.  
  
"Look, I didn't mean to snap at you, and I promise I will go and-"  
  
Suddenly, they had stopped and she was talking to arms and hair and the leather of Rosa's jacket, as the other woman drew her in for a hug. It was so unexpected that Amy trailed off mid-apology.  
  
The hug was brief, but comforting, and pulling back, Amy knew Rosa understood.  
  
"Don't tell anyone I hugged you, I've got a reputation to maintain," was all she said, but Amy knew Rosa well enough to read the underlying sentiment: _It's okay, take your time. I'm glad you're alright._  
  
They broke apart and were about to carry on walking when Rosa froze. Amy knew a split second before she turned exactly who was behind her.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey" Jake said, with an air of forced cheerfulness, "Don't mind me, I was just stretching my legs, getting some air in the old lungs..."  
  
He trailed off awkwardly.  
  
Amy just stared dumbly at him. Gah, why wouldn't her brain work properly?  
  
"I-" she started. "You- I mean, I- um, well, I'm glad you're up and about," she finished lamely.  
  
The silence stretched into minutes, and then hours. Jake just stared at her.  
  
"I was going to come see you after I checked out," she added, somewhat unconvincingly. Jake didn't seem to believe her, probably because she was literally telegraphing her guilt straight into his head.  
  
He opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"It's okay, Amy. It's cool. I get it. I can keep out of your way, if that's what you want, I can give you space, I can learn blocking techniques, if you don't want me in your head. I'd totally get that, that's cool. Cool cool cool."  
  
Amy look at him. He had rings under his eyes, and his hair was messy, as if he'd been running his hands through it. He was fidgeting, rubbing circles on the back of one of his hands, although he stopped almost as soon as Amy noticed it. He looked terrible.  
  
Jake sagged a little, and suddenly all of Amy's reluctance to talk to him was gone.

_How the hell did I almost leave without talking to Jake?_  
  
Words came rushing out of her all at once.  
  
"No, hey, it's okay. It's fine. I... I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little freaked out, but it's fine. We should talk. Now. If you want, that is."  
  
Rosa mumbled an excuse, leaving Amy with Jake, who looked like a light breeze might blow him over.  
  
"In my defence, the whole half-a-bond thing is kinda overwhelming. A faint draft might be enough."  
  
Heaven help her, Amy actually laughed at that, before pulling Jake into a waiting area and steering him into a seat. He didn't look all too steady on his feet.  
  
"So," she began, realizing she still wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say. "So, yeah. We're bonded now. Sort of."  
  
"Yup," said Jake. "I am getting your thoughts loud and clear."  
  
Amy wondered, in the back of her mind, how that even worked.  
  
"It's like they're my own thoughts, but also not, if that makes sense. Like I have twice as many thoughts, but half of them aren't really mine."  
  
She grimaced, but Jake shrugged.  
  
"I'm... getting used to it, I think. It's a bit like that time I drank three energy drinks and ate a whole packet of Skittles and then passed out because I was talking too fast to breathe."  
  
Amy wondered if that was supposed to be reassuring.  
  
"It kinda was," Jake admitted, with an apologetic shrug. "Look, I'm fine. Or I will be fine. That's not what I wanted to talk about." He flushed and went quiet. Was he embarrassed about something?  
  
"No, it's not that, I-" Jake took a deep breath. "I know it's not likely, but I thought I should probably show you my mark. Just, you know..."  
  
_ On the off chance they matched._  
  
It was the gentlemanly thing to do, and Amy felt a wave of gratitude that Jake had been the one to suggest it. It was unlikely, of course, but she'd seen enough movies to know the clichés, and if there was even the slightest chance they were living in a rom com, she wanted to get the clueless oblivion stage over as quickly as possible.  
  
She knew she probably ought to offer Jake some privacy.  
  
"You don't have to, if you don't want to. I don't mind."  
  
They both knew that wasn't true. Amy minded a great deal. Jake shook his head ruefully.  
  
"It's fine. I want to."  
  
Amy couldn't tell for the life of her whether Jake was lying. She looked expectantly at him, wondering how this was going to work, but before she could say anything, he spoke again, his eyes nervous.  
  
"Look, just so you know, before I show you, whatever your mark is, or was, or whatever, whether we match or not, I just want you to know that I am 100% with you. Whatever you want to do with that information. If you want a full bond... the offer's open. Whatever happens."  
  
Amy stared. Jake looked at her almost sheepishly, as if he hadn't just offered her something life-changingly huge. She realized too late that he was waiting for an answer.  
  
"I'm... that's... wow. Thank you, but I couldn't. Not if it doesn't match."  
  
She meant it, and as she said it, she felt no regrets. If they didn't match, that meant there was somebody else out there for Jake. Just because she probably wouldn't find her soulmate now, that didn't mean that Jake should have to go through that. Not if it could be helped.  
  
Jake's eyes flashed with an unrecognizable emotion. Relief? Gratitude? Confusion? For a second it looked almost like sadness. Before she could give it more thought, Jake was nodding.  
  
"Okay, well if you change your mind..." Jake tailed off, undoing the top button on his shirt.  
  
"Yeah, of course."  
  
Then Jake was reaching for his collar, pulling it down below his collarbone, and Amy sucked in a breath. She knew statistically that soulmarks didn't have to be in the same place, that a full two thirds of soulmarks weren't. But who didn't know the superstitions? Who didn't dream of a mirror match?  
  
She sucked that breath in even further when she caught sight of the edge of the mark, an all-too-familiar blue that she'd seen a million times before. _Surely not..._  
  
Then Jake swept the fold of his shirt aside, and Amy felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Her brain stalled and her mouth fell open and she felt the breath she'd been holding leave her in a startled gasp as she stared at Jake's shoulder.  
  
Staring back at her was a mark she had never seen before in her life.


	8. Jake

\- _definitely relief. No, confusion. No, relief. Probably relief? God, and I thought it might be a match, I wanted it to be a match, but _did_ I want it to be a match? Pull yourself together Ames, breathe, it didn't match anyway, it shouldn't matter, come on, keep it together, don't lose it over Peralta of all people, Peralta and his stupid -_  
  
Back at his apartment, Jake sighed and tried harder to tune out Amy's background panic. He didn't need to hear where the rest of that sentence was going to know that he wouldn't like it.  
  
He was getting better at ignoring her thoughts, but as soon as his concentration slipped even for a second, there they were in his head, buzzing around like they belonged there. Since concentration had never exactly been one of Jake's strong points, he now had a pretty good idea of where his partner was at, at least when it came to soulmark stuff.  
  
\- _or _am_ I disappointed, because for a second there- no, stop that right there, Amy Santiago, no more of that train of thought thank you very much_ \-   
  
Jake stifled a second sigh. It would be okay if she were just relieved. Well no, it wouldn't, it'd definitely still be the worst feeling ever, but at least he'd know for sure. No, what killed him was the fact that she didn't know. Even after seeing that their marks didn't match, there was still a part of Amy Santiago that wished she was his soulmate, and that moment of doubt let him hang on to his stupid, guilty, _impossible_ hope that she might somehow, possibly, _perhaps_ want to bond with him.  
  
He hadn't even known that that was something he'd wanted until he was offering it, but the crushing sense of disappointment he was now feeling was hard to deny. He, Jake Peralta, had feelings, romantic stylez, for Amy Santiago, the only person on earth he knew for sure he _wasn't_ destined to end up with.  
  
Friendzoned by fate itself.  
  
God, this situation sucked.  
  
"Hey, it could be worse," said Boyle from the other side of the sofa. For a terrifying moment Jake wondered whether Boyle had somehow bonded with him too and could read his mind now.  
  
"Huh? What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, you're not going cross-eyed any more when you're blocking."  
  
Ah, that. Boyle had turned up at his door a few hours earlier with home-made hákarl - an Icelandic delicacy, he explained - and a self-help book entitled "Soulmate Synchronicity: Ten Tips to Boost Your Bond When the Spark is Gone", which would be entirely irrelevant to Jake's situation, were there not a whole chapter on blocking out your partner's thoughts.  
  
Privately, Jake wondered exactly how far gone the spark would have to be if blocking out your partner's thoughts entirely was supposed to enhance your relationship. Again, thoughts of his dad flashed unbidden into his mind. Was this what his mom did? Just blocked it out when his dad was with another woman, papered over the cracks and pretended it was all okay?  
  
Still, it made for a good distraction, so he let Boyle put him through his paces, progressing steadily from some fairly easy mindfulness exercises- "just focus on your breathing, Jake, let all the tension float away"- to some more difficult mental gymnastics- "try to forget that I'm in the room, but keep looking directly at me".  
  
After a few hours Jake could do all manner of implausible-sounding things. He could hold two conflicting opinions at once, he could fully block out anything Boyle said to him and he could quite easily _not_ think of a pink elephant when told not to.  
  
Blocking out Amy's thoughts was still proving difficult.  
  
"Look, you've been a great help, but I think we should call it quits for today. I'm beat, and I'm sure you need a break too."  
  
Boyle looked ready to protest, but Jake cut him off.  
  
"Seriously, I'm good. I'm barely picking up anything now," he said, hoping Boyle wouldn't see through the bare-faced lie.   
  
Boyle didn't look convinced, but, thankfully, he let it drop.  
  
"Okay, well I'll be back tomorrow. Oh, and before I forget, Captain Holt said to tell you that you should take as much time as you need. Said he didn't want to see you back at the precinct until next week at the earliest, but that you should feel free to take a bit more time off if you want."  
  
Huh. So Captain Holt didn't want him around. He supposed that made sense. Amy would probably be back on desk duty in a few days, and in the field in a week or so. She was tough like that. He could hardly blame the Captain for not wanting Jake around distracting his best detective. It hurt, but Jake understood. He'd stay away as long as he could manage, give her some breathing space.  
  
He muttered something that seemed to satisfy Boyle, who left, then sat down heavily on his bed. Somewhere a few blocks over, Amy was annoyed at something. For a second - and _just_ for a second, he swore - he gave in to the urge to listen in, to see what Amy had on her mind, see how he'd upset her now.  
  
\- _out of milk, wonder if the store's open, nah, it's way too late, don't need milk now anyway, get some tomorrow? Need bleach too, maybe eggs, actually I don't have much food at all, wish I'd gotten takeout_ \-   
  
Huh. Nothing like your unrequited not-a-soulmate making a shopping list to deflate your ego.  
  
For the first time, Jake was glad that the connection went the way it did, so that Amy couldn't hear him moping. Then he felt guilty about feeling glad about what was, in effect, a massive invasion of Amy's privacy. Then he felt angry, although he couldn't have said why. Then he felt his stomach cramp up, but he suspected that was either second-hand sympathy hunger or the hákarl making its presence known.  
  
_Feelings are the worst_, he decided, and turned the light off, trying to count sheep while simultaneously not thinking about them. If he could ignore a whole flock of bleating ewes, surely he could ignore the mess that his life had rapidly become.  
  
It must have worked, because a few minutes later he was fast asleep.


	9. Amy

"Hey? Earth to Amy? You there?"  
  
Amy started and looked away from the window to find Gina, shooting her a look of mixed concern and disdain.  
  
"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Amy apologized.  
  
"No duh, you were zoning out worse than I did in high school ethics, and I literally only took that class to sit behind this really hot girl. And it turned out she was a Pisces, and also straight, so that was doomed from the get-go."  
  
Amy made a vague noise that she hoped sounded sympathetic. She'd learnt long ago that it was best to humor Gina when she went off on a tangent.  
  
"Anyway," Gina continued, "what I was _trying_ to say is that Captain Holt wants to speak to you in his office."  
  
Amy frowned and ran through a mental list of possible reasons why Captain Holt might want to talk to her. Did they need another statement about the hostage incident? She'd already told them everything she remembered. Had she messed something up? Unlikely. She was basically on paperwork. Was she finally going to be let back out into the field? She didn't want to get her hopes up. The Captain had made it clear that very morning that she wasn't going anywhere near a crime scene for another week at least.  
  
The possibilities running through her mind got less and less likely. Had Holt finally snapped and killed Boyle for asking when Jake was coming back and now he needed help hiding the body? Was he stuck on a _really_ hard crossword clue? Had he found her Pinterest and wanted to know why she had a moodboard based entirely on items found in his home?  
  
She looked up to see Gina still staring at her, sarcastic without actually saying anything.  
  
"You gonna go do that, then?" the administrator prompted.  
  
"Uh, yes, just give me a few minutes," Amy replied, before surreptitiously using her phone to delete the moodboard and heading over to Captain Holt's office.  
  
Inside, the Captain looked... well, he looked much the same as he usually did, but Amy liked to think she saw a hint of concern in his eyes.  
  
"Captain, you wanted to talk to me?"  
  
Holt nodded.  
  
"Yes, I thought it best. You see, I got a phone call today. From Jake."  
  
Oh.

_Oh_.  
  
Suddenly Amy wished it had been the moodboard. Holt continued.  
  
"He's hoping to come in this afternoon, and wishes to start back fully, effective tomorrow. On desk leave, of course, much like you."  
  
Amy nodded, knowing where this was going.  
  
"I just wanted to make sure that there wouldn't be any issues. If so-"  
  
"No issues on my part, sir," Amy interrupted, perhaps too quickly. "Quite the opposite, I'm glad he's back."  
  
The Captain just shot her a look. To any other human being it would have been indecipherable, but to Amy, who had a whole binder dedicated to interpreting Captain Holt's eyebrow movements, it spoke volumes. Amy decided to head his next sentence off before he could say it.  
  
"Seriously, sir, I know you're worried, but I'm fine. Tell Jake..."  
  
She trailed off. It felt juvenile, somehow, using Captain Holt as the go-between, like two schoolkids who weren't talking.  
  
"It's fine," she finished, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Tell Jake it's fine."  
  
The Captain looked sceptical, but shrugged.  
  
"Okay, as long as you're comfortable."  
  
Amy nodded, and Holt dismissed her.  
  
The thing was, she thought, as she headed back to her desk, she really _didn't_ mind. Yes, she wanted some space for a few days, took some time for herself, let herself be properly angry. But even during the initial shock, that anger had never seriously been directed at Jake. She wasn't distraught, or devastated, or even merely distressed. Sure, she wasn't jumping for joy, but she was coping just fine.

She knew she probably wouldn't end up with her soulmate, but somehow that didn't sting as much as she'd thought it would. It was just a fact, the cold, hard, objective truth of it undeniable and immutable. It wasn't fair, but it couldn't be helped, and Amy was determined not to let it get her down.  
  
She knew the squad didn't believe it - not now, and certainly not when she'd walked into the bullpen again just 3 days after leaving the hospital - but Amy Santiago was doing okay.

She _was_ fine, despite the queasy, roiling sensation she kept getting in her stomach, or so she told herself. It was probably nothing, after all. She only noticed it when she had absolutely nothing else to focus on. So as long as Amy kept her full attention on the little, inconsequential things, she was good.  
  
Amy Santiago was doing okay.  
  
She made a point of smiling cheerily as she sat down, starting on her paperwork with a brisk efficiency. She ignored Terry's obviously pitying stare. She was on the receiving end of a lot of those nowadays.  
  
She wondered when it would stop. Terry and Boyle were the worst, romantics that they were, but she'd caught everyone doing it at some point. It'd be a small thing. A slightly less barbed remark from Gina, an attempt at small talk from Rosa, permission from Holt to run inventory on the department's stationery. And of course, the mandatory awkward silence whenever soulmates came up in conversation. They were all, in their own ways, walking on eggshells, and Amy loved them for it, but she had also taken to spending time with Hitchcock and Scully to get away from it all.  
  
She glanced towards the clock. Two hours until Jake arrived.  
  
_God, I've missed him._


	10. Jake

Jake stood nervously outside the precinct door. He'd already reached for the door handle twice before pulling back, suddenly worried.

_What if they hate me? What if they blame me? What if they don't want me back?_

Rationally he knew that wasn't true. Over the course of the last week every single squad member had come to visit him, including Captain Holt, who'd spent the whole visit pretending not to be bothered by the weird scratching inside the apartment walls or the fact that Jake had to think about whether he actually had a chair that wasn't his couch. The whole squad had assured him that they couldn't wait for him to get back.

_The whole squad except Amy,_ the voice in his head supplied.

But that was nonsense. Amy had missed him. She'd thought so earlier that morning, and the thought had sent a jolt of excitement like electricity down Jake's spine. 

Up until then he hadn't been sure about coming back. He'd been so determined to keep out of Amy's way, stay home a little longer. But apparently one week with nothing to do was all Jake could manage without climbing the walls. He'd decided enough was enough when somebody vomited outside his apartment door at 3am and he found himself mentally profiling all of his neighbors to identify the culprit. He'd already covered a whole wall with bits of string and photos of "evidence" like a cliché conspiracy theorist when Terry came round to visit, took one look at the place and promptly declared that Jake needed to come back to the 99.

So here he was, staring at the door handle, more jittery than an eighth grader on a first date.

Jake took a deep breath. 

_Moment of truth._

He pushed open the door.

Truth be told, what followed a bit of a anticlimax. Nobody gasped or dropped their coffee dramatically at the sight of the returning detective. Nobody unfurled a "Welcome Back Jake" banner. Nobody burst into tears - at least not until Boyle got back a few hours later. Jake barely even got a glance from Amy. She noticed him, sure, but it was neither the shocked, angry reaction he'd been dreading nor the overjoyed welcome party he'd secretly been hoping for.

No, Jake's reintroduction back into the precinct was smooth and efficient. One minute he was staring at the utterly mundane sight of half the squad working at their desks, the next he was signing some paperwork in Captain Holt's office and the next he was sat at his own desk, trawling through the frankly alarming number of work emails he'd missed while away. 

It was almost as if nothing had changed.

"Almost" being the operative word. 

It started out with stray thoughts. An inability to keep focused. A sudden fascination with the noises the pigeons were making outside. A desire to go down to the bathroom and fix his makeup and _holy crap this bra is uncomfortable._

With that final non-sequitur, Jake realized that they weren't his thoughts at all. They were Amy's. But why would Amy Santiago - a woman whose legendary focus had once allowed her to ignore an entire troupe of drunk male strippers being brought into the bullpen because she was filing a warrant request - be so distracted? 

Jake cut that line of thought off right there. Whatever it was was Amy's business. He shouldn't be using their bond to pry. Still, he couldn't help but wonder about it, and it kept niggling him through the afternoon.

Sometimes, under the distraction, he even thought there was something else going on, ugly, and slippery as oil.

Things reached a tipping point when, ten minutes before the end of the day, Amy happened to look his way.

\- _that's what I've been missing, that smile -_

Funny. Jake hadn't even realized he was smiling. His surprise must have shown on his face too, because Amy blushed furiously and looked away.

\- _and he heard that, good going Ames, way to make it weird, I should apologise, I'm sorry Jake, this is my fault, it's all my fault_ \- 

The weird feeling was back and Jake had heard enough. Amy somehow thought this was her fault? How on earth was any of this her fault?

The final ten minutes crawled by at a snail's pace, and as the last few seconds ticked away, Jake found himself drawn to Amy's desk, where she was fiddling with her pen. She looked up at him.

"Hey," he began, wishing it didn't sound quite as lame as it did.

"Hey," Amy replied, dropping the pen, and Jake took solace in the fact that she sounded equally uncertain.

"So... I'm back." Jake kicked himself. Obviously he was back. She could see he was back. Still, Amy took the bait.

"Yeah, I'm glad you're feeling better."

\- _why did I just say that? He's obviously not better, he looks awful -_

"I'll try my best not to be offended," Jake replied, smiling to let Amy know that he wasn't really upset.

Miraculously, Amy smiled too.

\- _okay, maybe this won't be weird, please don't let me mess it up - _

Jake interrupted her train of thought.

"Look, I just thought we should talk. Since, you know..."

Since you're twitchier than a rabbit on coke. 

The silence stretched on.

"Yeah," said Amy, obviously uncertain. "Sure. Talk. Good idea. Here?"

He looked around. On one side of them Boyle was staring determinedly at his computer screen, trying and failing to hide his eavesdropping. Even worse, on the other side Hitchcock seemed to be extracting a spoon from Scully's nose. Jake gagged slightly.

Amy's stricken face told Jake that she'd seen them too.

"We could grab a coffee? If you've got time, that is."

Amy nodded, and soon they were wandering towards Rico's, the 99's local coffee shop. It was tiny, cramped and _incredibly_ gross, always had the AC up way too high and served coffee that was, depending on what time of day you went in, either strong enough to make you cry or watery enough to keep a fish in, with an odd taste that made Jake suspect that they had indeed, at some point, kept a fish in it. Still, it was right outside the main entrance and cheap, plus the owner was an old friend of Jake's mom, and occasionally gave him free donuts for old time's sake.

They ordered, and were wincing their way through their coffees when Amy finally spoke.

"I really am glad you're back, you know."

She spoke quietly, but Jake was hit with the full weight of emotion behind the statement. Even then, though, there was that sour undercurrent to it, a nasty taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the coffee, and now Jake knew exactly what it was. He decided to address the issue head on.

"Look, you don't need to do that."

Even without the bond, Amy's next thought couldn't have been more obvious: _Do what?_

"Feel guilty, I mean. Every time you look my way you get this feeling, like you're about to throw up. And I'd love to say I understand, but... I don't?"

Amy just stared at him.

\- _does he seriously not get it? How does_ -

"No," Jake interrupted, "I don't get it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you basically just woke up and got this all dumped on you, right?"

Amy nodded cautiously.

"So how could any of this be your fault? If anything, it's my fault. I'm the one who knocked you down back there."

Amy's eyes widened comically. Jake would have found it funny, in any other circumstance; she looked just like a Disney princess, if Disney princesses hung around in crappy coffee shops with rumpled blouses and ink stains on their hands.

"None of this is your fault. You saved my life, Jake," she added, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "I could never blame you for that. I don't... neither of us were to blame for what happened."

Now it was Jake's turn to stare, Disney princess-style, a lump forming in his throat at the wave of genuine gratitude and warmth that accompanied those words. Still, they raised more questions.

"Then why are you beating yourself up? Why the guilt?"

For a second he thought Amy wasn't going to answer him. She took a measured sip of her coffee. Jake tried to do the same, but burned his tongue and ended up making a very undignified face.

Naturally, that's when Amy spoke up.

"I guess I feel guilty about how I reacted in the hospital. I just saw your mark, and it didn't match and I was so disappointed," Amy laughed, but there wasn't any mirth in it. "I'd been waiting. All my life, and I'd never compared marks with anyone, never been with anyone long enough to want to. I always figured I'd wait until I could be sure, you know?"

And Jake did know. Amy was romantic, sure, but she was level-headed, realistic. She wasn't Boyle, she wouldn't go round looking for a match with everybody she'd ever been with. She'd be methodical, rational. She probably had a ticklist stored away somewhere, with goals to be met before she'd even _consider_ asking about marks.

_Hmm well it's no longer weird if I joke about his cheesy print underwear, check. He can deal with poorly-judged serial killer small talk, check. I've shown him my paperclip collection and he didn't run away screaming, check. But what's this? Ah ha! We've not discussed the importance of a comprehensive life insurance plan. Well that settles it, no soulmate talk yet._

It would be such an Amy thing to do, he thought, with more than a little fondness.

He was so amused at the idea he almost missed it when Amy carried on.

"I think I built it up too much. It was the first time I saw anyone's soulmark and it was nothing at all like what I'd imagined, and I freaked out. I didn't even think how you must be feeling, even though I know that one-sided bonds are meant to be hell for the person on the wrong side of them, and you were so kind and worried about me, and I was so selfish I didn't even _ask_ about you!"

Amy looked ready to cry, her guilt now klaxon-loud in Jake's mind.

"Amy," Jake interrupted, as gently as he could, "I don't blame you for that. I could never blame you for that."

Amy stared at him.

\- _doesn't blame me? Really? He sounds so worried, wait, was he worried about me? I can't even... oh, hell, maybe I _do_ love him after all_ -

Now it was Jake's turn to stare.

It wasn't the thought itself that got him. He'd been getting sporadic outbursts of "am I in love with Jake?" for a few days now, usually straight after the latest round of "what if I _had_ bonded with him?", and the shock value was wearing off.

No, this time it was the sheer familiarity of it, as if they were thoughts that had been hanging round Amy's head for _years_, not just a few days.

\- _and now he's looking at me, he knows, what the hell Ames, why couldn't you just focus on the small things, way to spoil everything _-

Okay. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Jake could make this not weird. 

"It's fine. I don't care." He regretted it as soon as he said it. He'd been aiming for nonchalant, but the result sounded more bored than anything.

\- _aargh, no, this is a disaster, why am I even allowed to think things, somebody kill me now _-

Yup, he'd made it weirder. Jake tried again.

"No, I mean I care. I care about you. I just... I don't mind? Whatever you think about me, I don't mind."

\- _oh. Wait, what? Does that mean -_

"It means you can think whatever you want about me. I don't mind. The way I see it, I shouldn't have access to it anyway. They're your private thoughts, and if you want to keep them that way, we can just agree to never bring it up. I can pretend like I haven't heard anything, and we can go back to normal."

Amy snorted and Jake didn't need his bond to know exactly what she was thinking.

"Okay," he countered, "maybe not normal. But as normal as it ever gets in the 99."

Amy's lips twitched at that, just the hint of a smile playing across her mouth.

She took a moment, as if she were rehearsing her next words. Jake focused intently on a weird gunky stain on the table, deploying every blocking technique he knew. Whatever it was, he only wanted to know when she was ready to tell him.

He'd just decided that the stain looked like a dinosaur, when Amy spoke up.

"Thanks, Jake. Normal sounds good. It sounds _really_ good right now. But I'm not sure we _can_ go back to the same normal we had before. Just ignoring the fact that you can hear all of my thoughts... that's not _normal_, Jake, that's denial. If this is going to be permanent, we need to accept it. We're not soulmates, but we are... something. We're bonded. For life. And that's our new normal, there's no point ignoring it. So if you want to hear my thoughts, I guess I'm saying ... go ahead."

She paused, as if she wanted a response, but before Jake could say anything, Amy was speaking again, this time more spontaneously.

"I wondered a few years back if I might be in love with you. Back when I was with Teddy. He wanted to compare marks, and when I said I wasn't ready, he blew his top, said I clearly loved you and that's why I wouldn't show him. Anyway, I dumped him pretty soon after that, but the thought was there, like an earworm. It pops up now and again. That's all. In case you were wondering."

_That's all_. Huh. Jake wasn't sure what he'd been hoping for from the conversation, to be honest. Still, if Amy wanted things to be normal, he could be normal. Maybe a joke?

"And here I was thinking you'd dumped him for not alphabetizing his sock draw."

Amazingly, Amy giggled at that, a messy, uncontrolled sound that Jake had missed. 

"Jake, how would I even-"

"Oh, you'd find a way," he countered, and sure enough, when he listened in slightly.. 

\- _well I guess you could assign them a color and alphabetize by color, so black, blue, brown, white, ooh, or maybe you could label them all with letters_ \- 

"I knew it, Detective Boring-Socks!" Jake crowed, triumphant, and this time the laughter was infectious. Soon they were both in tears, Jake flapping in the direction of the barista in a vain attempt to reassure him that the two detectives in the back weren't actually having a breakdown. Unfortunately, Jake laughing set Amy off even more, and then her thoughts just made the whole situation twice as funny to Jake.

Catching his breath, several minutes later, and studiously avoiding eye contact with Amy, lest she set him off again, Jake wondered if this was what the new normal looked like.

Then Amy was wondering how she'd alphabetize her _shoes_, and they were laughing again, thoughts of one-sided bonds long forgotten.


	11. Amy

One month later, Amy was proud of how far they'd come since those first days, with all the awkwardness and apologies.  
  
Sure, there were some weird moments. There was that time that Amy had been at the copier and took a deep breath to catch some of that fresh, warm ink smell, only to catch Jake looking at her like she'd grown a second head.  
  
Then there'd been the time she marathoned _Pride and Prejudice_ with Kylie. Jake had come in the next day bowing profusely to the entire bullpen and addressing her as Miss Santiago in an astoundingly bad British accent, and Amy realized that somehow that still turned her on, a fact that occasioned much flustered blushing from both parties.  
  
_Then_ there'd been the fiasco that was Amy's first period since bonding, when Jake rapidly discovered the joys of menstruation, and they both learned that PMS by proxy was totally a thing.  
  
Still, those awkward moments were surprisingly far and few between. For the most part, their status as semi-bonded "soulfriends" wasn't an issue. In some cases it even came in useful. Interrogations, for example, went much more smoothly when the lead detectives could communicate without speaking.  
  
Likewise, when Amy had a breakthrough one evening in a particularly tricky burglary they were working on, Jake phoned her immediately, adding his ideas to the mix until they solved the case.  
  
Of course, that was also the case where their perp, knowing he was caught, almost smashed Jake's head in with a baseball bat. Luckily, Amy spotted him in time, and her surprise gave Jake just enough time to dodge, the two of them pulling their guns in one fluid movement, perfectly synchronized.  
  
It was the first time she'd been glad to have the bond, and the feeling had been a pleasant surprise. _Is this what having a proper bond is supposed to feel like?_  
  
Still, there were always reminders that whatever bond they had, it wasn't "proper". Amy was reminded of that every time she tried and failed to guess what Jake was daydreaming about. She was playing through his head loud and clear, and he was still a closed book. She tried not to be jealous.  
  
The one-sided bond had other effects too. Sometimes she'd catch Jake squinting at her, for example, late at night, or when he was running on less sleep than usual, frowning as if he had a headache. A side effect of a one-sided bond, she knew. Normally two soulmates would naturally match the rhythm and flow of their thoughts like two walkers unconsciously matching the pace of their steps. In their situation, however, Jake simply had twice the number of thoughts, with no way of coordinating them. It would be difficult for anybody, Amy thought, but for Jake, who had so many thoughts at any given time even without the bond...   
  
Then again, she thought, having watched him spend ten minutes making a velociraptor out of blu-tack before accidentally squishing it in an attempt to hide it from Captain Holt, maybe she was overestimating the mental complexity of Jake Peralta.  
  
Turning back to her computer, Amy smothered a smirk. She didn't even need to look up to know that Jake was scowling at her.  
  
"I swear you two are the _cutest_!"  
  
Boyle's voice, not entirely unexpected, cut into her train of thought. Although initially crushed by Jake and Amy's non-soulmatehood, and more devastated than Jake and Amy combined at the increasingly slim-looking prospects of either of them finding their actual soulmate, Boyle seemed recently to have entered "supportive friend" mode, which, for Boyle, meant cooing enthusiastically at their every interaction. It was all very alarming, but Amy appreciated the effort.  
  
"What are we doing now?" she asked patiently.  
  
"You're doing the Look!" Boyle said this in a tone of great reverence; you could hear the capital letter.  
  
"Well we _are_ bonded," Amy shrugged. "Honestly, it's not that weird."  
  
But Boyle was off on an impromptu monologue about how _brave_ they both were, and how _inspiring_, and how _proud_ he was of how well they were doing - at least Amy thought it was impromptu. Actually, she wouldn't have been surprised if Boyle had written it down, speech style. _A eulogy for my love life_, she thought wryly, feeling a small surge of gratification when she heard a choked snort from Jake's side of the desk.  
  
Boyle was just extolling the virtues of the bachelor lifestyle when his speech was cut mercifully short by the appearance of a painfully awkward-looking Rosa.  
  
"Bathroom. Now, Santiago."  
  
Amy and Boyle both goggled. Boyle looked ready to ask what Rosa wanted. She cut him off.  
  
"Girl things. You know, Santiago. Those things. That girls do. In bathrooms."  
  
Amy blinked, and Rosa grabbed her arm, half dragging her out the door. Outside, Rosa stopped, and visibly relaxed.  
  
"Rosa?" Amy ventured. "Everything okay?"  
  
Rosa shrugged. "Yeah. Gina just reckoned you needed a break from Mr. "Who Needs Love Anyway?" over there. Sent me to extract you."  
  
Amy sighed.  
  
"Honestly, I'm used to it. It gets a bit repetitive, but he means well."  
  
Rosa tipped her head thoughtfully.  
  
"Figured it might bother you, him bringing it all up. Guess I was wrong."  
  
Amy shrugged. "I've come to terms with it."  
  
Rosa looked sceptical but said nothing and Amy felt the need to explain.  
  
"Look, it's not that awful, when you think about it. I mean, Jake was right. Soulmarks aren't a guarantee of happiness. Sometimes they are, obviously - look at you and Gina, or the Captain and Kevin. But some soulmates don't have that spark, you know? They're matched, married and miserable, but it's "fate" so they stay together until one of them cheats or leaves or snaps and beats the other one to death with a frying pan."  
  
They both shuddered; that had been a particularly unpleasant case a few weeks back.  
  
"Either way, I'm free from all that, free to just find whoever's right for me. And if I find my soulmate, great, maybe it'll work out. But if it doesn't, I'll always have an out. "Oh, sorry, I'm not your soulmate after all, gee isn't it a shame I lost my mark in a freak work accident, well it's been nice knowing you!" And if I don't find my soulmate at all, then it probably means I never had one in the first place, so who even cares!"  
  
Amy stopped. Rosa was looking at her strangely.  
  
"What?" she asked, defensively.  
  
"Nothing," Rosa replied. "I'm just surprised. Remembered when you were telling Jake off for saying stuff like that."  
  
Amy shrugged.  
  
"I guess I've had a change of perspective."  
  
Rosa stared at her, inscrutable, for a few seconds before giving her a tentative pat on the arm and turning to head back to the bullpen. Just before the other woman left, Amy interrupted.  
  
"Hey, Rosa?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thanks. For saving me from Boyle. And pass my thanks to Gina, too."  
  
Rosa shrugged.  
  
"Sure thing, any time."  
  
The rest of the day passed without incident, until shortly before 5, when Terry came storming in, sitting down heavily at his desk with a look of uncharacteristic anger, trailing an exasperated Captain Holt behind him.  
  
Jake made a move to ask Terry what had happened and Captain Holt shot him a warning look. Jake being Jake, he completely missed the warning look, so the Captain shot _Amy_ a warning look, and she thought it loudly at Jake. Thus warned, Jake sat down again, bemused.  
  
The squad trickled out after their shift ended, Boyle and Jake muttering something about Shaw's, but Amy hung back a few minutes to finish up. She only had a few pages left of her report, after all. As she finished she looked up. The bullpen was almost empty. Even Captain Holt was gone. Only Gina was still around - unusual, given her usual work ethic, or lack thereof. She seemed to be painting her nails.  
  
"Gina? You good?"  
  
Gina nodded, serene.  
  
"I'm my usual magnificent self, if that's what you mean."  
  
Amy waited to see if she was going to explain why she was there, but no explanation was forthcoming. She tried again.  
  
"And you're still here because..."  
  
"Finishing some work off," Gina said, not even pretending to have been working. She stretched her hand out, inspecting her handiwork. Still, Amy decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.  
  
"You gonna be around for much longer?"  
  
Gina paused for a second.  
  
"Nah, I think I'm just about done. Shaw's?"  
  
Amy frowned. No way had Gina just hung around for the fun of it. Had she been waiting for Amy?  
  
Before she could think about that any more, Gina was pulling her coat on - a hot pink fake fur affair, Amy noted with some alarm - and then they were walking together down to Shaw's, as if this was something they did every day.  
  
Gina walked fast, Amy noticed, struggling to keep up as she pulled her own coat on.  
  
"Uh, Gina?" she attempted, striding through the lobby. "Not that I don't appreciate whatever this is, but what's going on with... this?"  
  
Gina stopped in her tracks.  
  
"Can't a girl walk down to the bar with her friend without people questioning her motives?"  
  
A few seconds passed, then a few more. Gina looked mildly pained, then scrunched her nose up.  
  
"Nah, too weird. The friend line was stretching it. Sorry, Ames. You're a colleague at best."  
  
Amy must have made a face. Gina shrugged.  
  
"Eh, you should be glad you made it into the colleague category. Boyle's still an acquaintance and we've slept together. Anyway, "this", as you oh-so-eloquently put it, is Amy Protection Detail. I'm your personal knight in shining armor, here to glare at anybody giving you shit about being bonded to Jake."  
  
Oh. Okay. Weird. That definitely raised more questions than it answered.  
  
"Okay? Why now, then? I mean, it's been a month, it's hardly news. And nobody gave me any shit for it in the first place."  
  
That much was true. Sure, the story had gone round the precinct like wildfire. How could it not? It was sensational, the sort of story you read about in clickbait articles and scoffed at loudly if your friends saw you reading them. But nobody had really given Amy - or Jake, to tbe best of her knowledge - any shit for it. At the most she got a look of horrified pity, a mix of isn't-it-awful and thank-God-it-wasn't-me.  
  
Gina bit her lip and Amy narrowed her eyes.  
  
"Gina? What is there you're not telling me?"  
  
Gina hesitated for a second, as if debating just not saying anything, before heaving a sigh.  
  
"There was an incident earlier. A couple of junior officers talking downstairs. Turns out the bodycam footage of the hostage situation accidentally got released to the precinct-wide server today, which means anybody nosy enough could just watch it. It was only up for a few hours before somebody noticed, but that was enough."  
  
Amy felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as Gina continued.  
  
"Anyway, the footage wasn't that clear. You could see Jake pretty well, but you were barely in shot, so the file had some operational notes attached, just your usual stuff, "check against Detective Santiago's verbal account", you know. Just to fill in the blanks. Only people haven't read it that way."  
  
Amy could already see where this was going, and she didn't like it.  
  
"It's bullshit, but some people are saying you did it on purpose. That you somehow maneuvered so that Jake would land like that, and that you're under investigation and that's why those notes were there."  
  
Amy grimaced, knowing exactly what people would be saying, but she knew Gina was right. It _was_ bullshit, and she suspected most people would see right through it. Still, that didn't explain why Amy Protection Detail was suddenly necessary. Unless...

"Gina, you said there was an incident?"  
  
Gina nodded, leaning in towards Amy.  
  
"That was why Terry was so weird earlier," she said, in a tone that suggested that, however pissed Gina was, she still relished an opportunity for gossip. "He was down in evidence when he overheard some of them. They were saying ... well, they were saying some pretty nasty things about you. And he just blew up. Went full Scary Terry on them."  
  
Amy blinked. Whatever she'd expected, it hadn't been that. Gina nodded.  
  
"Yeah, it took them by surprise too. He didn't actually do anything to them, just gave them a piece of his mind. But their captain overheard, and decided to pull Terry in for violent behaviour, and that's why Captain Holt had to get involved. Spent a whole hour chewing out this other captain, telling him he should keep his own squad under control before laying into ours. Apparently it got quite heated."  
  
Amy flushed. Was that what had put Terry and the Captain in such a bad mood? Some insult to her reputation? Part of Amy almost objected to them both protecting her honour, like she was some damsel in distress.   
  
But at the same time, a much larger part of her was glowing with warmth and affection at the two of them stepping in to protect her like that. Gina's tone was one of subtle approval, with a fierce undercurrent of protectiveness, and Amy suddenly found herself tearing up. She changed the topic abruptly before Gina could notice, turning to look out the door.  
  
"Oh, would you look at that - it's already getting dark! Much as I've loved this chat, we should probably get going before the others miss us."  
  
Gina gave Amy a knowing look, before turning to leave.  
  
If Amy had a spring in her step as they walked along the block to Shaw's, or if she gave Terry and the Captain a particularly grateful smile when they finally got there, Gina said nothing, and soon the evening was in full swing, and the day's events forgotten. Jake grinned across the bar at Amy, Rosa challenged them all to karaoke and all was well with the world.


	12. Jake

It was remarkable, Jake thought, how easily his and Amy's bond had become the new normal. The awkwardness that had once been an almost daily occurrence was now a weekly nuisance at the very most, and the precinct had settled into a comfortable rhythm around them. All in all, Jake was pretty happy.  
  
Still, the status quo couldn't last forever, and what tipped it was a momentous event, an event as unexpected as it was hotly anticipated, one that many had feared would never come to pass: Boyle found his soulmate.  
  
"Oh, you won't believe it Jake, she's so _perfect_! And did I tell you about her eyes?"  
  
Boyle had, in fact, told Jake about Genevieve's eyes - by which he meant the sheep eyes that she'd ordered as a starter at whatever foodie restaurant Boyle had happened to be reviewing that night. Their orders had gotten mixed up, she'd been given his lungs instead, and somehow, instead of just clearing the issue up with a waiter, they'd ended up sharing the meal between them.

The rest, as they say, was history.  
  
"And did I tell you about her _rack_? Because she has the most _amazing_ rack!"  
  
It took a full five minutes for Boyle to explain to Jake that yes, of course he meant her spice rack, what else could he _possibly_ be referring to?  
  
That, in turn, led to a starry-eyed description of the marathon sex that they'd ended up having on Genevieve's kitchen counter.  
  
"And that's when she suggested we compare marks! Said she just knew!"  
  
Jake wasn't surprised by this in the slightest. Of course Boyle's soulmate would be as full-on as he was. How could they not be? Genevieve, who seemed to have out-Boyled Boyle, was exactly the sort of person he would have guessed his friend would end up with, and Jake couldn't help but grin when he saw how happy she made him. Skeptical as he'd been about the whole soulmate deal, he couldn't deny that it had clearly worked out for Boyle.  
  
"I guess when you know, you just know," he shrugged. It was an empty platitude; Jake had no idea if it was true. But it was the sort of thing you said to the newly-bonded, and Boyle seemed too distracted to really care in any case. All the hallmarks were there: glazed-over eyes, a slightly flustered smile, a drastic worsening of Boyle's already minimal hand-eye coordination. Eventually, Jake decided to leave Boyle to it, and headed back to his desk, a strange warmth in his chest.  
  
Jake stayed in a good mood all day, and even surprised himself by being the first to write in Boyle's bond-book. This was an old tradition. The idea was, on the day you bonded, your friends and family made you a book of wishes. They were usually pretty generic; "may your love never end" was a standard, although nerdier couples often got "live long and prosper". Still, originality wasn't really the point, since the owner, if they wanted the wishes to come true, wasn't meant to ever read it.  
  
Jake, skeptic that he was, had never liked them. He'd written in Gina and Rosa's, of course. You had to; not writing in one was tantamount to telling a new couple that you hoped they'd be miserable, argue constantly and die in a fire. But he'd written their wishes with a sort of guilty shame. He _hoped_ they would have peace, health and harmony for a good many years, sure. But was he really convinced that their bond could provide all that? So many bonds didn't.  
  
This time, it felt different.  
  
"May you always being each other as much joy as you did today," he wrote, in the neatest handwriting he could muster, "and may you live a long and happy life together." For the first time, it didn't feel entirely like a lie.  
  
He passed the book on to Terry, then looked up to see Gina giving him a smug look. He did the mature thing and poked his tongue out at her. This only got him a raised eyebrow from Gina, a "leave me out of it" gesture from Rosa, and a frown from Captain Holt.  
  
He wondered what Amy thought about it all - she'd just left for a drugs sting - but after five minutes he was forced to conclude that she wasn't thinking about it at all. Weird.  
  
That evening, the squad went out to celebrate. Genevieve turned up with some of her friends, and soon they were quite a large party. Before long, drinks and conversation were flowing, and Jake was pleased to find out that he liked Genevieve a lot. She was quirky, intense and slightly weird, just like Boyle, and was almost aggressively friendly. Half an hour in, she'd even made Rosa smile, which was almost a record. Jake approved, and he was pretty sure Amy did too.  
  
Thinking about Amy, though, Jake realized that she was nowhere to be seen. She'd been sat opposite him, but now her chair was empty. In fact, barely anybody was still at their table; Terry had challenged everybody to a pool tournament, and most of the squad was either playing or watching.  
  
Jake stood up, wondering how he hadn't noticed everybody leaving, and then the room was spinning around him and he was leaning on the back of his chair for support. Suddenly the lights were too bright, and the music too loud, and all his thoughts were slipping away from him.  
  
_Whoah_.  
  
He wondered briefly whether he'd had more to drink than he'd realized, but no, he could remember everything he'd drank pretty clearly. He wondered if he was getting sick, and then, for a terrifying second, if somebody had slipped something into his drink. The room felt horribly hot and sticky.  
  
Then his stomach seized up.  
  
\- _gonna vomit, this is the worst, shouldn't've had that tequila, hate myself, hate tequila, hate everything -_  
  
But Jake hadn't had any tequila...  
  
It took him embarrassingly long to realize what was going on, but you could blame that on the second-hand intoxication, he reasoned, stumbling towards the fire escape, with a muttered apology to Genevieve's friends.  
  
Outside, he breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air hit him.  
  
"Oh my God, that fresh air is amazing. Is air always this good?"  
  
Amy, slumped against the wall with tears drying on her face and a puddle of vomit next to her, didn't grace that with a reply, but she did turn to face Jake with a groan.  
  
\- _please don't make noise, feel like crap, oh hell, did I get you drunk too, I'm so sorry-_  
  
"I'm barely drunk," Jake said, more quietly, lying through his teeth.  
  
Amy looked ready to say something when - _urgh, gonna vomit again_ \- she suddenly doubled over, and Jake was hit with a wave of sympathy nausea.  
  
Thinking quickly, he grabbed Amy's hair, holding it back from her face.  
  
\- _thanks Jake, you're a lifesaver, this is so gross, sorry_ -  
  
They stayed that way for a while. Jake gave her a pat on the back that he hoped was comforting, and when she was done and upright again, he reached for her bag. She kept a spare hair band in the front pocket, right? Handing it over, he got a grateful nod.  
  
"Thanks," Amy muttered after a while, tying her hair up. "Sorry you had to deal with that."  
  
Jake shrugged. "You've definitely seen me worse."

\- _but nobody's worse than nine-drink Amy, I hate nine-drink Amy, she's the worst -_  
  
Jake shrugged. "Remember when I thought Gina bought a parrot? I tried to feed her hat peanuts."  
  
Amy did giggle at that. "To be fair, it was very feathery."  
  
Then she hiccupped and winced.  
  
\- _eww, ew, ew, water, should get water, think I threw everything up, probably okay to walk_ -  
  
Soon Amy was on her feet, and Jake was too, and they were both helping each other to the bar, and then they were sat in a dark corner, tending two large waters. Jake gulped at his eagerly.  
  
\- _hey, small sips, don't want you throwing up_ -  
  
Jake snorted and slowed down.  
  
"Yes, _mom_."  
  
The sat for a while, finishing their water in companionable silence. The others were still playing pool, but Jake didn't want to join them. Not just yet. Finally he broke the silence.  
  
"You wanna tell me why you decided to drink half the bar?"  
  
Amy sat very still for a moment before answering.  
  
"I guess it just drove it all home, you know?"  
  
Jake cocked an eyebrow at her, curious.  
  
"Boyle finding Genevieve, I mean. She's great," Amy clarified, "but I just kept thinking about how everybody's got a soulmate now, except you and me, and you'll find yours some day, and then it's just gonna be me, all on my own."  
  
Jake frowned. He'd never really thought about what would happen with him and Amy once he found his soulmate. He couldn't picture it.  
  
"Really?" Amy looked surprised, and Jake realized belatedly that he'd been speaking out loud. He was drunker than he'd thought.  
  
"More drunk," Amy corrected, absent-mindedly, and Jake kind of loved that she could still do that nine drinks in.  
  
She blushed, and they sat like that for a while, before Jake spoke.  
  
"I don't think it'd change anything."  
  
Amy looked at him disbelievingly and he shook his head before she could disagree.  
  
"I mean it. I don't think anything would change with us, if I found my soulmate."  
  
Amy scoffed.  
  
"It's a question of when, though, isn't it? Because you will find them. Fate, right?" She laughed bitterly at that, and before Jake could think of anything to say, she was speaking again. "Or don't you buy into that? Being a lone wolf and all."  
  
Jake stared, still unsure how to reply. He opened his mouth, but Amy interrupted him.  
  
"Can we just not have this argument again. You were right. Soulmates are bullshit. You hear that everyone?" This time she spoke louder, though not loud enough for anybody to actually hear her, "Jake Peralta, sexy lone wolf, was right and I, Amy Santiago, was wrong!"  
  
Jake finally found his voice.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey, let's keep the volume down. Glad as I am that you finally admitted that I am a sexy lone wolf, I don't think the whole bar needs to know."  
  
Amy giggled again.  
  
"Who knows, maybe your soulmate's here and they'll come over to see for themselves."  
  
They sat again for a few seconds.  
  
"You know," Jake ventured, "I meant it, when I said nothing would change. We're bonded, and if my soulmate can't accept that... well, they'd hardly be my soulmate then."  
  
Amy raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Look at it this way," he tried, "You're my partner, you take up half of my brain now, and - oh yeah - you're my _best friend_. I like having you around. And my soulmate has to like all the things I like. It's scientifically proven."  
  
Amy snorted.  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
"No, I'm serious. I've, uh... I've been having some thoughts about all that stuff recently. And I'm maybe, _possibly_ willing to concede that fate does, generally, know what it's doing. And if not... well, if my soulmate doesn't want you around, they won't have me around much longer. It's that simple."  
  
It wasn't a lie. If his soulmate didn't want Amy in their life, he'd up and leave, even if it did make him just like his dad. Because screw that. A life without Amy in it wasn't an option, and fear of messing up like his dad did wasn't a good enough reason to throw their friendship away.  
  
For a split second their eyes locked, and at that moment, there it was.  
  
\- _oh_ -  
  
A tiny thought, wordless this time, just a tangle of affection and warmth and sadness, all rolled into one big, messy bundle of regret and jealousy and _possessiveness_.  
  
Jake felt his jaw drop. Amy, wide-eyed, looked pale. Nobody spoke.  
  
\- _what have I done, what have I done, what have I done -_  
  
Amy's mind was pure panic as Jake tried and failed to think of an appropriate response, because whatever that was, it was a hell of a lot realer than anything he'd heard before.  
  
They stared at each other for a few agonizing seconds.  
  
Then, with either the world's worst or the world's best timing, Gina came stumbling over to them. She'd gained a feather boa at some point, and was carrying her heels, having changed into pumps.  
  
"Hey, losers," she said, with a disapproving glance towards their water, "Rosa and I were gonna head, wondered if you needed a hand home?"  
  
Jake was shaking his head, but Amy seized onto Gina's suggestion like a lifeline.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sure! That'd be amazing! I think I drank too much, but I'm not throwing up any more, so -"  
  
Gina grimaced and made a motion to shut Amy up, dragging her towards Rosa. Jake didn't follow them as they left.  
  
He looked around. Boyle had vanished, along with Genevieve, some time ago. Captain Holt was nowhere to be seen. Even Terry seemed to be gone, he thought, scanning the far side of the bar. Hitchcock and Scully were still there. They waved invitingly at him, and Jake pretended not to have seen them.  
  
He toyed with the idea of getting one more drink, then felt his stomach - or Amy's, more likely - give another lurch, and reconsidered.  
  
Pulling on his jacket, he settled his tab and set off home, his mind a drunken whirl of chaotic thoughts that were mostly his own.  
  
Amy _did_ love him.

_ Shit_.


	13. Amy

The next day was hell, but at least Amy wasn't the only one suffering.  
  
Terry, for example, was wearing sunglasses with his usual shirt and suspenders combo, and occasionally groaning into his files. Gina had announced that she'd be working from the break room today for "personal reasons", and a few minutes later Amy could hear snoring from the direction of the couch. Rosa actually looked pretty put-together, but was glaring intensely at anybody who approached her. Amy couldn't tell if that was a hangover or just her usual level of angry. And Boyle wasn't even in, having taken the day off to spend time with Genevieve.  
  
They were almost functional, though, Amy thought with a certain pride. If anything, their stony silence and the fact that nobody dared walk past Rosa to take a bathroom break meant that they were getting quite a lot done. Captain Holt would be proud.  
  
Not that the Captain was in right now. That had been the first announcement of the day. No sooner had they arrived in varying states of rumpled misery, than the Captain was explaining to them how the Minotti case, abandoned a few months back, was suddenly back on track, with several key players suddenly making appearances at various known hot-spots. The Captain himself wanted to run the stake-out, he announced, and there was a brief argument in the briefing room about who had to accompany him, hungover as they all were. Jake, who'd been the primary on the case before, had lost that one, so now he and the Captain were stuck in a car together halfway to New Jersey.  
  
Amy felt sorry for Jake, but at the same time, she _was_ secretly glad for an excuse not to have to talk to Jake. Their conversation that morning had been beyond awkward.  
  
She'd shuffled into the bullpen, feeling only marginally more human than the rat she'd encountered in the subway that morning. She'd spent the entire journey to work wondering what she could even say to Jake after the previous night.  
  
She could still see his face, shocked and vaguely horrified. And why shouldn't he be? She'd basically confessed - right after he'd made it perfectly clear that he _was_ still hoping to find his soulmate - that she was in love with him, and that she wanted him all to herself, and that he should be _hers_, not some stranger's. It was a prickly, selfish thought, and Amy was ashamed of it, but she couldn't lie to Jake and say that she hadn't meant it. She couldn't in good conscience do that, but more importantly, she just practically _couldn't_ \- he'd know the second she said it that she was lying.  
  
She was still at a loss by the time she arrived, when - to her great surprise - she'd spotted Jake hanging around her desk nervously.  
  
She strode up to him.  
  
"I wanna be honest about what happened last night-" she began, but Jake had spoken over her.  
  
"Listen, you don't have to talk about what you thought yesterday, in fact I'd really rather not -"  
  
They'd both stopped and stared at each other, not sure how to carry on.  
  
"I mean, if you really _wanna_ talk-" Jake began, just as Amy backtracked.

"No, that's fine, better in fact, let's just forget it ever happened-"  
  
They stalled again, and the seconds dragged on, painfully silent. Amy wondered why she'd turned up so early, and wished there were a few more people in the bullpen. Anything to make some noise.  
  
"I mean, yeah..." Jake had trailed off lamely. "Cool. Cool cool cool."  
  
Oh God, maybe he did want to talk and she'd just bulldozed him?  
  
"No, we can talk, if you want," she'd said unconvincingly, desperately hoping he didn't.  
  
Jake had paused. Not for the first time Amy wished she could read his mind like he could hers.  
  
"Nah, I'm good. You're right, we can forget it ever happened. I've already forgotten. What are we even talking about? Last night, you say? What even happened last night? Did anything happen last night? Did last night even happen? What is this "last night" you speak of? I believe I am not familiar with the concept."  
  
And then Jake was rambling and making that goofy fake thinking face and stroking an imaginary beard, and normally Amy would have laughed, only she had a lump in her throat the size of a tennis ball, so she'd stayed silent, and too late she'd realized that Jake had probably been expecting her to laugh or something, but it was too late to fake-laugh now, so she'd just stared at him, _nodded_ briskly and turned without a word to walk back to her desk and contemplate why she was suddenly incapable of normal human interactions.  
  
No, Amy was glad Jake was off on a stakeout, for her continued sanity if for nothing else.  
  
The day ticked on, and Amy found herself getting sucked into a forgery case, losing herself in pages upon pages of technical details and bank statements. It was boring, and the mind-numbingly repetitive records combined with yesterday's late night soon had a soporific effect.  
  
"Whoah, no nodding off there, Sleeping Beauty!"  
  
The sound of Terry's voice snapped Amy out of whatever funk she'd been in. Had she been asleep?  
  
Looking around her, she saw that the bullpen was pretty empty.  
  
"Where did everyone go?" she asked, blinking and stifling a yawn.  
  
Terry gave her a look of sympathy.  
  
"Rosa's dealing with some cranky old lady who called in half an hour ago. Hitchcock ate something from Jake's desk and it made him real sick, so Scully's taking him to the hospital. And I think Gina went home?"  
  
Amy glanced at the clock. It was _late_. When had it gotten so late?  
  
"You've been pretty out of it. You haven't turned a page in the last hour, but every time I thought you were asleep, you'd mutter something about microprinting."  
  
Urgh. That sounded about right. She looked over at the empty desk opposite her, feeling a sudden pang of concern.  
  
"Are Jake and Captain Holt not back yet?"  
  
Terry shrugged.  
  
"The Captain phoned in an hour ago or so, said they'd seen their guy go in, wanted to wait until he left again. Haven't heard anything since."  
  
Amy nodded, biting her lip.  
  
Terry frowned.  
  
"You worried about him?"  
  
They both knew exactly who Terry meant, but Amy decided she'd make him work for it.  
  
"Captain Holt? Why would I be worried about Captain Holt?"  
  
Terry laughed and shook his head.  
  
"Come on, I know you're worried about Jake."  
  
Amy made an effort to look indignant, but Terry cut her off.  
  
"Don't try that on me, I know that face. Seen it a million times before."  
  
Amy raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Really?" she asked, with what she hoped was withering sarcasm but suspected just came off mildly disapproving.  
  
Terry shook his head, exasperated.  
  
"You've seen it too. You see it every time Rosa goes off after some murderer or arsonist or whatever, and Gina's stuck back here at a desk. It's the exact same face. Worrywarts, the both of you."  
  
Amy frowned, a sinking feeling already settling into her guts.  
  
"Terry, you know that Jake and I-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he interrupted, "you're not soulmates, just keeping it friendly, yadda, yadda, yadda. I've heard it all - though I still think, if you actually compared marks-"  
  
Amy bit her lip, suddenly annoyed.  
  
"We did! Okay? We did compare marks."  
  
Terry's eyes widened as Amy, despite herself, carried on.  
  
"We did compare marks, and they didn't match. Not quite."  
  
Terry just stared at her, stricken, and to her horror, Amy felt her control crumbling, tears filling her eyes.  
  
"We're not soulmates. We aren't, and I _wanted_ us to be soulmates and now I think I've ruined everything."  
  
And now she was crying in earnest, and Terry was hugging her, gentle and steady as she cried into his shoulder.  
  
"Hey," he said, soothingly, rubbing circles on Amy's back, "it's okay. It's gonna be okay."  
  
Terry's voice was calming and his solid presence reassuring, and Amy clung onto him until she didn't think she could cry any more.  
  
Terry rubbed one more circle on her back. "You good?"  
  
Amy took a deep, shaky breath.  
  
"Yeah, I think I'm good. I'm sorry. I'm such a mess right now."  
  
Terry gave her a final squeeze, let go of her, then looked her straight in the eye.  
  
"Listen, Amy. There's nothing to be ashamed about. You're allowed to be confused and upset. Hell, after I first met Sharon, I think I cried damn near every week. Knew I loved her, but I got it into my head that she just didn't care, you know?"  
  
Amy frowned.  
  
"But you and Sharon-"  
  
"I know, I know. Turned out she was doing the exact same thing. She thought _I_ didn't care. Took us embarrassingly long to get our act together and compare marks. Point I wanted to make is soulmate stuff can get messy, but it works itself out in the end."  
  
Amy made a strange noise, half choke, half hiccup.  
  
"But Jake and I _aren't_-"  
  
"Amy, I have never seen two people who are more obviously soulmates! We've had a betting pool for years on when you were gonna work it out. You sit there staring at his desk all sad when he's not around. He knows every single one of your takeout orders by heart. You bitch about him constantly and every single time you quote every little thing he says word perfect. _He did his taxes just to impress you_!"  
  
Amy opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again, stunned. With every word Terry spoke, she felt her world tilt on its axis, shifting in ways that made no sense, but somehow felt right.  
  
"You being bonded has barely changed anything around here, and that's because you practically read each other's minds anyway. I've seen you have whole conversations without speaking, and it is _freaky_!"  
  
Amy was reminded of that tiny smile that started it all, that day with the hostage-taker, their silent exchange before everything went to hell. Could Terry be right?  
  
"Every time you're together, you're looking out for each other, bouncing ideas off each other, balancing each other out, and it's all _that_ that makes you soulmates, not some stupid mark. And if the universe doesn't agree, the universe is wrong."  
  
Amy nodded, dazed, her world settling slowly into it's new alignment. Everything Terry had said _did_ make sense. But if it was true...  
  
She had a _soulmate_.  
  
The two of them sat for a few seconds, lost in thought, before the tension was broken by a sniffle from Terry.  
  
"I'm sorry," he choked out, "Terry just gets emotional about these things. Terry loves love."  
  
And then Amy was laughing properly and Terry was wiping his eyes and Amy was actually smiling for the first time all day.  
  
"Thanks, Sarge," she said, pulling him into a hug - a proper hug this time, not just her crying on him. She tried to put a lot of unspoken feelings into it.  
  
"Better not let Jake see you hugging the Sergeant like that."  
  
Amy and Terry whirled round to see Scully raising his eyebrows at them.  
  
"What with Jake being your soulmate and all," he clarified, entirely unnecessarily. "Hitchcock's fine, by the way. Doesn't even need surgery this time." And with that he sloped off back to his desk.  
  
Amy exchanged a glance with Terry.  
  
"Even _Scully_ knew?"  
  
If Terry replied, his laughter made it unintelligible, and somehow Amy couldn't find it in herself to be properly annoyed.

_She had a soulmate! _


	14. Jake

Jake, sitting in a deliberately inconspicuous sedan on the other side of the city, blinked once. Then he blinked again, and pinched himself for good measure.  
  
Had he imagined that whole conversation?  
  
\- _can't believe we're soulmates, Jake, did you hear that? We're soulmates, I can't believe it took me so long_ -  
  
His mind still a hopeful whirl of confusion and excitement, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Captain Holt cleared his throat.  
  
"Something you'd like to share, Peralta?"  
  
Jake spun round. The Captain was giving him that trademark inscrutable look.  
  
"... No?" Jake ventured.  
  
The Captain made a vague humming noise.  
  
"Then eyes on the building."  
  
Jake sighed. They'd been waiting for Frankie Minotti to leave the building, a drab gray warehouse that Jake was quickly coming to hate, for damn near three hours, and Jake was getting antsy.  
  
The problem was, antsy Jake had nothing else to focus on that whatever Amy was focusing on, and right now, Amy's thoughts were distracting, to say the least.  
  
\- _can't believe we've been so stupid, can't wait to see him when he comes back, urgh, can't believe Scully knew, and wow, my mascara! Panda eyes much? But I have a soulmate, how did I not realize -_  
  
Jake felt the beginnings of a smile creeping up on him, then caught Captain Holt's disapproving stare and felt guilty. He'd drifted off again.  
  
"Distracted?" the Captain asked, raising one eyebrow.  
  
"In my defence, this stakeout is really boring!"  
  
Holt snorted.  
  
"All stakeouts are boring, Peralta. That is the beauty of them. The hours spent sitting, waiting, watching, nothing happening. I find it highly therapeutic."  
  
"Well bully for you, Captain Boring-Pants, I can see you're just the life of the party."  
  
The silence following this was deafening, and Jake wondered if he'd finally broken the Captain. But no, a few seconds later, Holt spoke.  
  
"Not your finest effort, insult-wise. You really _are_ distracted."  
  
"Yeah, because this stakeout is deader than the murder victim that I _should_ be investigating right now."  
  
Holt merely chuckled.  
  
"Dead as this stakeout may be, we both know that you wouldn't have done much more in the precinct today. If Sergeant Jeffords is to be believed, the worst they have had to deal with was one elderly lady who was convinced her neighbor was an alien. Would you rather be on alien patrol?"  
  
Jake was about to interrupt, because hell yes, he _loved_ the sound of being on alien patrol, especially if you were going to call it alien patrol, but then Holt cut him off, more gently this time.  
  
"But that point is moot," he emphasised, "given that the real problem isn't how boring this stakeout is. You're not distracted because you're bored, are you? I can read your face like a book. You're distracted because Santiago has _finally_ realized that you are in love with her, and you have _finally_ realized that she feels the same way."  
  
Jake's jaw dropped. How did the Captain-  
  
"Oh, don't give me that look," Holt rolled his eyes. "You're hardly subtle about it. I knew from my third day as Captain, and the only reason it took so long was because I heard you talking about Die Hard on Day One and I wondered whether worshipful adoration might not just be your default mode. But no, three days in I realized that was a category reserved for Die Hard and Amy Santiago."  
  
Jake must still have been gaping, because Captain Holt chuckled.  
  
"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies. I'm happy for you both, now get back to the stakeout."  
  
Jake dutifully shut his mouth and they sat for a few more minutes, Jake plucking up the courage to ask the Captain what was on his mind.  
  
Captain Holt broke first.  
  
"What is it, Peralta? Something else bothering you?"  
  
Jake took a deep breath.  
  
"So you know that Amy and I..." he trailed off awkwardly.  
  
"Are in love," the Captain supplied, "yes, go on."  
  
"Well," Jake continued, "that's the thing. I love Amy," the words felt strange in his mouth, but somehow right, "but our marks don't match. We checked."  
  
Holt stared intently at the building's door for several seconds, and Jake wondered whether the Captain had heard him right.  
  
"Well?" he prompted.  
  
"Well what?" the Captain asked. "I fail to see the problem."  
  
"You..." Jake trailed off. "But that means we aren't soulmates!"  
  
The Captain shrugged.  
  
"It means your marks don't match. Nothing more, nothing less. It doesn't make you any less soulmates."  
  
Jake frowned.  
  
"Look at it this way," the Captain tried, "Marks are the universe's way of telling us who we are fated to be with, right?"  
  
Jake nodded mutely.  
  
"And can you see yourself spending the rest of your life with anybody else but Amy?"  
  
Jake shook his head.  
  
"No. No, I can't. I couldn't. Not ever."  
  
As he said it, he knew it was undeniably, inescapably true. He and Amy were fated, because who else could there even _be_?  
  
"Well there you go," the Captain finished up, with a tone of satisfaction, "The universe has spoken. It just didn't need a mark to do so."  
  
Jake laughed. He couldn't help it. Was it that simple? Could marks just be wrong? A sensible voice in the back of his brain told him that the universe didn't make mistakes like that. But Jake Peralta had stopped listening to that voice many, many years ago. A sense of joy rose in his stomach, along with a wonderful feeling of freedom. 

Jake's mind couldn't have been further from the warehouse doors when the Captain suddenly tensed up.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"On your left."  
  
Sure enough, on Jake's left a man was leaving the warehouse, heading rapidly towards a battered-looking SUV.  
  
"You think that's Minotti?"  
  
Holt nodded and Jake swore, fiddling with the key in the ignition.  
  
"Okay, we're following?"  
  
Holt nodded again. "But we give him some distance," the Captain added. "Not many cars around here."  
  
The SUV was pulling out now, and Jake made sure to give it a decent lead before following, heading back downtown. After they has driven for about ten minutes, Minotti suddenly took a turn, pulling up between two buildings.  
  
"Wanna see what he's up to?" Jake asked, and Holt nodded again.  
  
"Cautiously, yes."  
  
The two officers left their sedan, drawing their guns and moving as one towards the alleyway.  
  
Holt made the motion for all-clear, and Jake took the lead, keeping low to the ground.

There was no sign of Minotti.  
  
Jake turned to Captain Holt for guidance.  
  
"Must have gone into the building," the Captain muttered, looking speculatively at the door.  
  
Together they crept towards the door when-  
  
"You didn't seriously believe I was stupid enough to fall for that, did you?"  
  
They whirled round, guns raised. Staring back at them was Frankie Minotti, a gun in his hands, evidently pissed. Jake's finger went to his trigger.  
  
"Tsk tsk tsk," Minotti tutted. "I wouldn't if I were you."  
  
Jake shot a minuscule glance at Captain Holt, whose jaw was tight. The Captain took his finger off the trigger and lowered his gun, placing it slowly on the ground in front of him.  
  
"That's right, that way nobody has to get hurt. You too," he added, motioning with his gun towards Jake.  
  
Jake raised his eyebrows at the Captain, who nodded back at him, almost too subtly to notice. Jake lowered his gun, painfully slow, and Minotti smiled.  
  
Then the Captain was lunging towards Minotti, handcuffs at the ready, and Jake was snatching the gun out of his hands and at one point there was a gunshot, terrifyingly close, but it didn't matter because the handcuffs had clicked closed and Captain Holt was already reading Minotti his rights.  
  
Jake laughed, then winced. _Why did that hurt?_ He looked down and his brain stalled.  
  
A dark stain was spreading across his shirt, soaking the fabric black-red.  
  
Then Jake must have passed out, because one second he was upright, still vaguely proud of his and Holt's synchronized maneuver, and the next he was on the ground, with the Captain pressing down on his chest and shouting.  
  
He tried to listen, but his ears were ringing, and for some reason his brain didn't want to focus on anything.  
  
"- with me, Peralta, now is not the time to-"  
  
The world was spinning a bit, like when Amy was drunk. _Was Amy drinking on duty?_  
  
"- five minutes out, you can hang on five minutes-"  
  
He wondered what Amy was up to right now.  
  
\- _almost done, just gotta tidy my desk up, that's right, pencils in the pencil pot, update the desk calender_ -  
  
Jake smiled. He loved that desk calendar. It had one crossword clue a day, and a dotted line to fill in your answers. It was so very Amy.  
  
Then everything began to blur into one.  
  
"- on Peralta, that's an order -"  
  
\- _still not back, maybe I should -_  
  
"- ambulance is here, listen, just -"  
  
\- _silly, I'll see him tomorrow -_  
  
"- over here! He's- "  
  
\- _still can't believe -_  
  
"- stretcher, now- "  
  
\- _love him_ -  
  
" - losing him - "  
  
Then the words were just sounds, and the sounds were fading into nothing and Jake faded with them.  



	15. Amy

Amy rubbed her eyes and looked around the bullpen. Some members of the night shift were trickling in.   
  
Terry was gone already, and Rosa was back, but she looked like she was packing up too. Even Gina, who had surprised them all by emerging from the break room an hour ago, was hovering round Rosa's desk, clearly impatient to leave. Everybody was winding down for the day.

Amy was just about to join them, when the phone rang. The three of them caught each other's eye, all of them thinking the exact same thought.  
  
_Can we ignore it?_  
  
Technically, Amy noted, looking at the clock, it _was_ the night shift now. They were within their rights to ignore it. It was their internal number, so not some member of the public.  
  
Still, calling this late, it was probably an emergency.  
  
_An emergency that might take hours to sort out,_ Amy added mentally.  
  
Amy stared the others down, willing one of them to bite the bullet and deal with it. Finally, Gina sighed and reached reluctantly for the receiver, answering with her signature eye roll.  
  
"Hello, Brooklyn 99, how can I help you?"  
  
Amy saw the moment Gina's posture shifted.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
More sounds from the other end of the line. Gina had gone white as a sheet. Amy looked to Rosa for an explanation, but Rosa also seemed to be concentrating intensely on whatever Gina was hearing.  
  
"And is he-"  
  
Whoever was calling must have cut her off. If possible, Gina went paler. Amy felt sick.  
  
"Okay, where are you? We'll meet you there."  
  
More noises from the end of the line. Amy grabbed onto the corner of her desk for support.  
  
"Okay, gotcha," Gina nodded, then hesitated slightly. "If he... just let us know if anything changes, okay?"  
  
She hung up and exchanged a terrified glance with Rosa. Amy thought she caught the glint of tears in Gina's eyes.  
  
_Oh God._  
  
"What is it?" she asked, a sense of dread pooling in her stomach. Gina didn't look like she could speak, so Rosa stepped in.  
  
"That was Captain Holt. He's... Jake's been shot."  
  
Like that, the bottom dropped out of Amy's world.  
  
_Jake's been shot._  
  
That could mean anything, she told herself, her mind racing. It could mean he got grazed. It could be nothing. Jake's been shot before - hell, _you_ shot him that one time.  
  
_But why would Gina and Rosa be looking at me like that? Why would Captain Holt have phoned so late at night?_   
  
She needed to know.  
  
"Rosa, how bad is it?" she asked, her voice trembling.  
  
She hated how Rosa took a second before answering.  
  
"I'm not gonna lie, it didn't sound good. He was shot in the chest, close range. Sounds like the Captain had a hell of a time getting him to hospital."  
  
"He's there now, and they have him in surgery," Gina added shakily, resting her hand lightly on Amy's shoulder. "But yeah, Captain Holt said to get down to the hospital. Said we should hurry."  
  
Hurry because Jake might not make it. That was the implication; you didn't need to be a genius to work it out.  
  
Amy nodded, and without further discussion, the three of them left.  
  
The journey to the hospital was a blur. Amy remembered being shepherded into Gina's car, sitting in the backseat with Rosa holding her hand, wanting to throw up. She remembered blazing down Atlantic Avenue at top speed, Gina's knuckles white on the wheel. She remembered spelling Jake's name out for the nurse on the desk, barely trusting her own voice. And then there she was, slumped in an uncomfortable hospital chair, Gina on one side of her, Captain Holt on the other, and Rosa pacing nervously up and down beside them all.  
  
"And somebody's called his mom?"  
  
Captain Holt sighed.  
  
"Yes, Gina, I did that as soon as I could. The others too."  
  
Gina bit her lip, clearly wishing there was something she could do. Amy didn't blame her. She wished she'd had her cigarettes on her when the call had come in. Not that you could smoke in a hospital, mind you.  
  
Time ticked slowly on. Fifteen minutes after they'd arrived, Terry burst in, wide-eyed and rumpled. He'd picked up Jake's mom en route, since she was in no state to drive. Five minutes after that, they were joined by a frantic Boyle, who saw them all and promptly burst into tears.  
  
Hours passed, each one slower than the last. Boyle's sobs had died down, so now he was just sitting silently, with a lost, blank-faced stare that was almost _worse_. Rosa was a few meters away, swearing at the vending machine. Terry had his arm round Gina, who had gotten a coffee from somewhere, but wasn't drinking it. Karen Peralta was slumped next to them, watching Gina like a hawk.  
  
The sight of them all just made Amy more nervous, so she turned to see how Captain Holt was holding up. His face was impassive, but he was gripping the armrest on his chair like a lifeline, and he barely seemed to be blinking. Amy watched him for a few seconds longer, desperately looking for anything, any detail that might distract her from the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her.  
  
_Just observe, what can you see? Pretend this is a case like any other. What're the facts? Don't think, just observe._  
  
The Captain looked strange. For a second Amy couldn't figure out why and then it dawned on her. The t-shirt. It didn't fit right.  
  
_Probably hospital-issue_, she thought. _His shirt must have been covered in blood._  
  
Amy recoiled, trying to unthink it, but the image wouldn't leave her head of the Captain, covered in blood - _Jake's blood_ \- trying to hold it together in some alleyway while her partner - _no, her soulmate_ \- bled out beneath him.  
  
She felt sick all over again.  
  
The Captain, seeing her stiffen up, moved to put his hand over hers. It was meant to be a gesture of comfort, she knew, but all she could think of was those hands covered in blood. She flinched away, and the Captain withdrew his hand with a look of concern.  
  
She closed her eyes and took a breath.  
  
_ Get a grip, Santiago_.  
  
She released the breath, but kept her eyes closed. Maybe if she just pretended she was back in bed, she'd wake up and all this would have been a terrible nightmare, but just a nightmare, and Jake would know and would be an ass about it the next morning, _didn't know you cared so much, Santiago, maybe I should get shot more often!_  
  
Only no. Jake wouldn't laugh. He'd understand. He always did nowadays. Another item for the "Reasons Amy Should Have Realized Jake Was Her Soulmate Way Sooner" list.  
  
Of course, that opened the floodgates to all the thoughts Amy was determinedly not having.  
  
_What if he dies?_  
  
_Worse, what if he dies and the last thing I thought was about forgeries?_  
  
_Or what if he was lying there and all he could hear from me was some stupid thing about filing, or binders or..._  
  
Amy tried to remember all the pointless crap she'd been thinking about, but she couldn't even pinpoint anything specific. It was all so _trivial_.  
  
_If we were properly bonded, I'd have known,_ she thought. _I'd have know, and I could have talked to him. Told him to hold on. Told him how I feel. Anything._  
  
She felt bile rise in her throat and opened her eyes again, choosing to stare at the roof tiles. Once she'd mapped out every mark and stain, she ran her eyes over the lights. One of them was flickering slightly. It was annoying, now she'd noticed.

The whole hospital was like that, full of tiny annoyances. The ticking clock on the other wall, the way the carpet and the chairs' upholstery weren't _quite_ the same color, the squeaky noise the automatic doors made when somebody came through.  
  
Amy gritted her teeth at the sound.  
  
Then she snapped to attention, along with the rest of the squad, because it was a doctor opening the door.  
  
"You're all here for Jacob Peralta?" he asked, eyes widening at the size of the group.  
  
Captain Holt nodded, his face a mask.  
  
"Any news?"  
  
The doctor paused for just a moment, his expression unreadable, and Amy could have strangled him, had her knees not turned to jelly all of a sudden.  
  
_Please, please, please please please please please._  
  
Finally, thankfully, he spoke.  
  
"Your friend pulled through surgery. He's not out of the woods yet, but he's responded well so far, and we're optimistic that he'll make a full recovery, given time."  
  
They heaved a collective sigh of relief. Tears filled Amy's eyes, and the corridor swam as the doctor pre-emptively headed off their next question.  
  
"It'll be a while before anybody can go see him, maybe a few hours, and he probably won't wake up for a few more hours after that. You guys should go freshen up, eat if you want to. Jacob's not going anywhere."  
  
"Thank you, Doctor," Karen managed, somewhat shakily, the Captain nodding in agreement. Out the corner of her eye, Amy could see Rosa and Gina hugging.  
  
Then the doctor left, and most of the squad trickled off to use the bathroom, or grab coffee, or just stretch their legs for a while.  
  
"I'm going to get some proper food, you want anything?" Rosa asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Amy steadied herself and got to her feet.  
  
"I'll join you. Change of scene'll do me good."  
  
Her knees didn't shake, and her voice was surprisingly steady.  
  
Jake was alive, and that was enough.


	16. Jaaaaaaaaake

The first thing Jake noticed, as he woke up, was that wherever he was, it was _soft_.  
  
What had he done to end up somewhere so soft? And why was he so _sleepy_?  
  
He tried to open his eyes, just a crack, but everything was white and blurry and so bright it hurt, so he quickly closed them again.  
  
_Bright, white and fluffy. I'm in a cloud. Cool cool coooooool._  
  
He lay there a while longer before an alarming thought occurred to him.  
  
_Am I in heaven? Please say I'm not in heaven. Isn't heaven meant to have harps?_  
  
He tried to listen for any harps, but all he could hear was bleeping.  
  
The bleeping was weird, but thinking was too much effort, so Jake decided to go back to sleep.  
  
\- _wait, is he awake? I think he's awake, why's that bleeping? Is he_ -

Jake grimaced.  
  
_Why's the cloud shouting at me? Not cool, cloud, not cool._  
  
But it continued.  
  
\- _that normal? Do I fetch the doctor? I should probably fetch the doctor, how do I_ -  
  
Jake tried to ignore the cloud-voice, but it wouldn't shut up, and now there were people? Jake kept his eyes resolutely shut until they went away again.  
  
\- _okay, nothing to worry about, get ahold of yourself Ames, let's just -_  
  
Why did that name sound familiar?  
  
_Ames. Ames Ames Ammmmes. Amy. Amy? Amy! Wait, is Amy here?_  
  
With an almost superhuman effort, Jake opened his eyes again, just a crack.  
  
Sure enough, there was Amy. She looked like hell, but the second she noticed his eyes opening there was this huge grin on her face. It was a pretty grin, Jake thought, and he tried to grin back.  
  
Then she was saying something, but the sleepiness was back with a vengeance. He hoped Amy wasn't disappointed.  
  
_Awwwwww don't be sad, Ames, check out this cool cloud we're hanging in, it's sooo fluffy, you'll love it..._  
  
And then the sleepiness was winning, and Jake was drifting away again.


	17. Amy

It took another couple hours for Jake to properly wake up, and a couple more before the drugs let him hold a sensible conversation with anyone.  
  
A couple hours after that, the doctors let Amy back in, under strict instructions not to tire the patient out. She nodded her thanks and pushed the door open.  
  
Sure enough, there was Jake, pale and rumpled, and rocking an _amazingly_ unflattering peach-colored hospital gown, but somehow still smiling at her, that amazing, goofy Peralta smile.  
  
_God, I'm glad I get to see that grin again._  
  
At that the grin got wider.  
  
"Oh, shut up," Amy shot back.  
  
"You know you love it," Jake countered, with a grin that was, if anything, _more_ obnoxious than before.  
  
Amy shook her head.  
  
"You are unbelievable."  
  
".... Unbelievably handsome?"  
  
Amy quirked an eyebrow as she sat down next to the bed.  
  
"In that hospital gown?"  
  
Jake looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose.  
  
"Okay, point taken, but you're not doing much better, and also you apparently got engaged while I was out. Not cool, Santiago."  
  
Amy grimaced.  
  
"Boyle spilled coffee on me, and this was the only thing the hospital shop had in my size. I think it's meant for bachelorette parties."  
  
Jake sighed theatrically.  
  
"Look, if you didn't want me at the wedding, you could have just said so,"  
  
Amy tried to look stern, but that just cracked Jake up, and to be fair, she _was_ wearing a t-shirt saying "Buy Me a Shot, I'm Tying the Knot", so she couldn't exactly blame him for laughing.  
  
"Ah, ow, ow, crap, crap, crap, ouch!" Jake suddenly yelped, gritting his teeth. Amy felt her eyes widen, her hand shot out towards the call button, before Jake held out a hand to stop her.  
  
"No, no, no, no need, just remind me not to laugh too hard, laughing hurts."  
  
Amy winced, reminded that Jake _had_ just been shot. Joking around with Jake had just felt so right, Amy had almost forgotten that he was injured. Her stomach twisted guiltily. What if she'd hurt him?  
  
"Ah, it's not that bad. Plus I got a badass scar out of it," Jake said, in a tone of voice that was trying far too hard to be nonchalant. He then ruined it by attempting to shrug and swearing profusely again.  
  
Amy raised a skeptical eyebrow.  
  
"Okay, it's not great," Jake conceded, once he was done cursing. "Zero out of ten, would not get shot again."  
  
He'd meant it as a joke, but suddenly all Amy could think was _don't you dare._  
  
"Not planning on it any time soon, don't worry," Jake reassured her, with a tired smile. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."  
  
And then Amy was trying not to cry, because she nearly had lost him, damnit all, and didn't Jake know how close it had been? And just when she'd realized-  
  
"We're soulmates," she blurted out, eyes wide.  
  
So much for bringing it up naturally. She could have kicked herself. Surely this was the last thing Jake wanted to deal with right now. Hell, she didn't even know if he felt the same way about it all. Terry could have been wrong, after all. The thought made her want to curl up in a ball and weep. Jake said nothing and Amy backtracked desperately.  
  
"Well, we might be soulmates. Maybe. Or maybe not. Probably not. You know what, it's not important, let's not..."  
  
But then she saw how Jake was looking at her. It was the same awestruck look he got when he solved a case, the moment the last clue clicked onto place and everything suddenly seemed so _simple_.  
  
Amy felt a spark of hope ignite somewhere deep inside her.  
  
"Soulmates," Jake breathed, so softly that, in any other circumstances, she might not have heard him. "Yeah, I remember that."  
  
Jake was still staring at her, with that look of wide-eyed wonder, and she was almost certain she'd gotten this right, but "almost certain" wasn't 100%, wasn't good enough, not when so much was on the line.  
  
Amy _really_ didn't want to screw this up.  
  
She stared back, desperately trying to read his face, read his thoughts, anything. She took a deep breath.  
  
"Remember in a good, I-wanna-be-your-soulmate kinda way?"  
  
The silence only lasted a second or two, but they were the longest seconds of Amy's life.  
  
Then Jake's stunned awe gave way to something different, something soft and fond and oh-so-familiar.  
  
"Do you even have to ask? Yes, Amy. Yes, yes, yes, and a hundred times yes."  
  
And then she was leaning in, and he was too, and they were kissing, and it was awkward, what with the bed, and the IV and the gunshot wound, but they made it work.  
  
_And hey,_ Amy thought, in the very back of her mind, _we've got our whole lives to work on it,_ and then she laughed, because _how amazing was that?_  
  
They stayed like that for quite some time.  
  
Finally Jake pulled back, with a dopey grin that made Amy's heart do all sorts of things inside her chest.  
  
"I love you, Amy," he murmured, and Amy was struck by how _right_ it felt.  
  
_Me too,_ she thought back, projecting as many feelings as she could into the thought. _I love you too, Jake._  
  
They sat like that for a few minutes, him occasionally speaking, her beaming loud, sappy thoughts back at him in reply, when Jake suddenly bit his lip, looking at Amy almost guiltily.  
  
"I... uh, there's something I probably ought to show you," Jake said, looking around, as if to check if the coast was clear. When he was satisfied that they were alone, he shifted, moving to pull aside his hospital gown.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Amy interjected, "Are you sure you should be doing that?"  
  
Jake shrugged, and only winced slightly this time.  
  
"I'm like 70% sure it's fine," he said, and reached for his bandages before Amy could object any further. "Plus there's another dressing under the bandage, so there's nothing too gross."  
  
Amy was still confused, and not entirely reassured, but the call button was right there if Jake was wrong, so she cautiously let him continue.  
  
Just as he was about to remove the bandage, Jake paused.  
  
"I knew already, just so you know. The moment you knew, I knew too. The universe had already spoken, and all that jazz."  
  
She gave him a look. _The universe had spoken?_ New-found romanticism or not, that didn't sound like the Jake she knew.  
  
"Yeah, something Captain Holt told me," he shrugged. "But look, either way, I knew already. So if this means what I think it might mean, it changes nothing. I wanted you to know that."  
  
Amy nodded, intrigued. _What is it?_  
  
Jake swallowed, and gently pulled the bandage aside.  
  
There, almost obscured by a puckered red scar, was Jake's mark, still splotchy and blue, but half the size it used to be. The stitches had warped it and pulled it out of shape. If Amy squinted, it almost looked like -  
  
"Does it match?" Jake asked, in a hushed, almost reverent voice.  
  
_Is that the same mark I had?_  
  
Amy found herself staring at the mark some more. It _did_ look an awful lot like her mark. Surely too much to be a coincidence. It could be a match.  
  
_Or it could be wishful thinking,_ a small voice in the back of her mind supplied. _You barely remember what your mark even looked like anymore. _  
  
Didn't hers have that swooshy bit at the top?  
  
She stared at it a bit longer, desperately wishing for some certainty, a flash of recognition one way or the other.  
  
But no. Nothing.  
  
Then she turned and saw Jake's face, and suddenly the question was no longer _does it match?_  
  
Looking at Jake, his eyes aglow with excitement, the question was _does it matter?_  
  
And Amy suddenly realized it didn't.  
  
"I don't know," she said, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. "Maybe. I don't know. And I don't care. I love _you_, whatever you've got on your shoulder."  
  
Jake grinned, and Amy looked at the mark again. Jake's mark. Maybe her mark too. She caught herself reaching towards it, almost without thinking. She stopped and shot Jake a questioning look. _May I -_  
  
Jake nodded before she could even finish the thought, and the she was reaching out again and _this is it, I'm actually doing this-_  
  
_Orange soda. Laughter. His car stalling. Terrible coffee from Rico's. Amy's smile. Laughter again. A worn-out leather jacket. Out-of-tune singing in the evidence room. Thoughts racing, racing, racing._  
  
For a second it was all too much, her brain couldn't fit that many thoughts, Amy was seeing double, and-  
  
\- _not again, loud, loud, loud, so many thoughts, double the thoughts, need to stay calm for Amy, Amy? You okay there? Focus on your hand, okay? It should be easier this time. Just focus -_  
  
Jake was rubbing circles on her hand, and it was helping, she could feel her focus coming back, and the double vision was clearing up, and then she and Jake heaved a simultaneous sigh of relief,  
  
and  
  
everything  
  
just  
  
_clicked_.  


  
_Wow_.  
  
This was so much easier than before, when it had just been Jake. Amy knew that now, could access those memories like they were her own.  
  
"Whoah," said Jake, slack-jawed, and Amy had to fight off a laugh.  
  
_Yeah_, she thought. _Same_.  
  
She sank back in the hospital chair, her mind so much bigger than it had ever been before, teeming with thoughts that weren't all hers, perspectives on the world that weren't her own. It was surprising, and expansive and beautiful.  
  
Time passed, but Amy couldn't have said how much. Sometimes the two of them spoke. Sometimes they didn't need to. All the while she had Jake's thoughts in the background, startlingly new, but also comforting familiar, like she was finally hearing both sides of a conversation she'd been trying to follow for years.  
  
_I could spend a whole lifetime working this out,_ Amy thought.  
  
_Good job we've got one, then,_ Jake thought, and that one thought, and the feelings that accompanied it, were so warm and simple and undeniably true that Amy couldn't help it. She pulled Jake into a kiss, and for a long while after that, neither of them thought anything at all.


	18. Jake and Amy

"Surprise!"  
  
Jake's jaw dropped in fake-shock.  
  
"Aww guys, you shouldn't have! How unexpected!"  
  
_Real convincing, Peralta,_ Amy teased him from across the bar. Jake never could lie to save his life.  
  
_Eh, I think I sold it,_ he shot back.  
  
As usual, though, Amy was right. Rosa saw straight through him.  
  
"Boyle told you, didn't he?"  
  
Jake nodded, shooting Boyle an apologetic look.  
  
"It was quite literally the first thing he said to me once we were done."  
  
The squad groaned, but by now it was mostly for show. Honestly, would it even _be_ a 99 surprise party without Boyle spoiling it ahead of time? It was practically tradition.  
  
Amy giggled, and Jake shrugged.  
  
"If it makes a difference, I was genuinely surprised by the banner?"  
  
Said banner was large, glittery and garish, proclaiming its message to the whole bar in increasingly-cramped letters: We Hope Your Recovery Has Been Tolerable; Your Absence Has Been Noted. Intriguingly, Jake noticed, it was slightly charred around the edges.  
  
"A Captain Holt special?" he asked.  
  
"I composed it," the Captain nodded, "Gina provided the glitter glue, and Boyle did most of the actual writing."  
  
Well that would explain why Boyle's hands were so glittery. Jake had wondered.  
  
"Amy distracted you, Rosa dissuaded Boyle from adding drawings, and Terry was first on the scene when Hitchcock set fire to it. So you could call it a group effort," Captain Holt concluded, with no small amount of pride.  
  
Jake looked round at the squad and felt a sudden surge of affection.  
  
"I love it. It's beautiful. One-of-a-kind."  
  
And Jake smiled, because that was the squad all over, wasn't it? One-of-a-kind. They were oddballs, sure, but they were his oddballs, and weird banner or no, he wouldn't trade them for anything.  
  
_Getting teary-eyed there, Jake?_  
  
Ever the mature adult, Jake poked his tongue out in reply.  
  
"Something you'd like to share with the class, Peralta? Santiago?"  
  
Jake tried his best to look innocent, all the while furiously willing Amy not to betray his moment of sappiness to the Captain.  
  
_Ames, I have a reputation to uphold as a stone-cold badass, think about my reputation! Amy! Please!_  
  
Naturally, she ignored him. Jake was too hung up on the whole "lone wolf" shtick for his own good, anyway, if you asked her.  
  
"Oh, Jake was just getting sentimental about you all. He's an idiot, so he doesn't always say it, but he loves you all dearly and would appreciate a hug right now."  
  
Her tone was sugar-sweet, but the look she shot Jake was pure smugness.  
  
_I should have known giving you unlimited access to my brain was a bad idea,_ Jake thought, mock-irritated.  
  
_You know you love it,_ Amy countered, and damn it, Jake did, especially when Captain Holt actually followed through and gave him the world's stiffest hug.  
  
_Oh my God, this is my new favourite thing, it's like hugging a lamppost,_ Jake gushed, and Amy just smirked.  
  
"I'm glad you're back," the Captain said, pulling away. "And I must extend my congratulations to you and Amy. Officially, I believe I am supposed to warn you about the consequences, should your bond affect your working relationship. But off the record, it's about damn time."  
  
Then everyone had to give Jake a hug, of course. First a hug from Boyle (clingy), then from Terry (crushing), then from Gina (fake-reluctant), then from Rosa (actual-reluctant), and then, finally, from Amy (perfect, of course).  
  
_Okay, maybe I did need a hug or six,_ Jake admitted, feeling himself relax. Amy squeezed him tight before letting go.  
  
"Thanks guys," Jake said, and this time, if his voice sounded a little choked, he didn't try to hide it.  
  
The squad laughed, and soon they'd ordered and were crowding round their regular table. They fell into an easy conversation, and Amy leant into Jake, thinking about the last time they'd been here, when she'd drank all the tequila. It seemed so long ago, like another lifetime.  
  
_In hindsight, we should have just kissed then and saved ourselves all the pining_, she thought.  
  
_No arguments from me there,_ Jake shot back. _Seriously, how did we not get together sooner?_  
  
_You were a cynical mess and I was holding out for a fairy tale?_  
  
_Oh yeah. That sounds about right. Still, we were such _idiots_. I mean, all the evidence was right there. All those years and _you_ were right there._  
  
_Some detectives we are._  
  
They sat for a few seconds more before Jake's mouth quirked upwards in a subtle, mischeivous grin.  
  
_I guess we'll just have to make up for lost time, then._  
  
Amy caught his eye, and they both looked around, almost furtively. Boyle and Terry were talking toaster irons, Captain Holt was studying the menu intently and Gina and Rosa seemed to be having some kind of internal conversation of their own. Nobody was paying Jake and Amy any attention.  
  
They glanced back at each other and Jake's grin intensified.

_Are you thinking what I'm thinking? _

_Almost certainly, _Amy shot back_, but go on?_

_I know we've never done it in public before, so if you don't want to, that's fine-_  
  
_Jake, hun._  
  
_Yeah?_  
  
_ Shut up and kiss me._  
  
_Why, I thought you'd never ask._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's that! A huge thank you to everybody who left comments - you've all been so lovely! Hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it :)

**Author's Note:**

> So there we go! The first chapter of my wildly self-indulgent soulmate AU. Just as a heads-up, the chapter lengths will vary wildly, because apparently I have no self-control. But it is all written out already, and hopefully I'll be able to post fairly regularly. Hope you enjoy ^-^


End file.
